Through the Walls
by enahma
Summary: Third (last) part of the complete HDH trilogy. Post GoF. Snape is Obliviated, Sirius is a Squib, Hermione is grieving, the war turns even crueller and Quietus is struggling to regain his lost happiness - again.
1. How to be a Muggle?

WARNING: This is the sequel of my previous stories 'Happy Days in Hell', 'Even the Fear Left Me' and 'Coming off the Ropes'. If you didn't read them, please, leave now; it wouldn't make any sense, because this is the final part of those stories.

Betaed by Barbara

SOME NOTES ABOUT VARIOUS THINGS, PLEASE READ IT!

So, I'm here AGAIN! Today, when I read through my sketch, I had the disquieting feeling that it would be longer than that 20 chapters I promised before, but... All right, I don't know yet.

And one thing about the reviews: thank you very much for your encouraging (many times praising) words, but you're spoiling me. And since I don't want to spoil this part of the trilogy I have to ask a favour from you: please, let me know if you think I left something out, or I didn't answer an important problem, or I didn't explain not understandable facts or events. (I really appreciate athenakitty's reviews, because she always asks a lot of questions and they often remind me not to leave something out!) You know, when you write a story many things are evident for you (aka the author) and you don't find necessary to explain or write down things in a more detailed way, and your readers are at a loss.

I generally don't react (in writing) to the received reviews (I simply have no time), but I try to answer every e-mail I give.

I tell you a secret: without the help of the cited readers, the following story (Through the Walls) would be much worse. They are:

**Barbara **- well, she's my beta, but she always tells me if there are mistakes or left-out things in the storyline.

**Lunatic**, who **always** left me some helping notes.

**sev1970**, **ShortySC**, **Potter-Freak**, **Ottilchen**, **LadyBird**, **Earl**, **Penny6**, **RADKA**, **Tim H. Smith **and **Rowan **- they also pointed out my mistakes or suggested things I'd better explain in the sequel.

I owe special thanks to **Kateri**, **fyre **and **ickleiss **for their reviews and understanding.

Many thanks to **everybody who reviewed **my past stories!

And if somebody knows another place in the web where I could store my stories (NOT FictionAlley - I hate that page more than I despise ff.net), please, let me know.

And now... 

Jiggery pokery!

Hocus pocus!

Squiggly wiggly!

Let the magic begin!

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**Chapter 1 - How to be a Muggle?**

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"You are joking, Quietus. I'm sure we can't pay with a CARD! It's like magic, not a muggle invention!" Black whispered desperately into Harry's ear. Hermione, who heard his remark, snickered.

Harry flung out his arms in mimicked exasperation and winked at the two girls. Anne didn't notice his wink, she was entirely focused on her ice cream, but Hermione winked back. Harry's smile widened when he caught the girl's slightly carefree expression - it was the first time since her parents' death that she didn't wear that painful and somehow wondering expression on her face.

"I can't believe you still don't understand, Sirius," Harry sighed. "As I've already told you that machine is in telephone contact..."

"Stop!" Black rolled his eyes. "I don't want another boring explanation about Mug- ahem... techniques," he cast a sidelong glance at a woman who stood in the queue of the next register eyeing them curiously.

"Can I have another ice cream, Sirius?" Anne opened her mouth. Black looked at her, and his expression turned shocked. Harry followed his gaze and giggled. Anne's face was completely covered by chocolate cream, as well as her clothes.

"God in heaven," Black mumbled and began to search for a handkerchief in his pockets, but Hermione was faster. She wiped the brownish remainders from Anne's face with her own handkerchief and shook her head slightly towards Black who was about to offer another sweet to the little girl.

"I don't think it's a good idea," she said and Black agreed fast-

"Yeah, Hermione's right, Anne."

"Why?" Anne's big brown eyes looked pleadingly at the adult. "I..."

"We are going home by bus, Anne. I don't think you are allowed to eat melting and dripping ice cream on it," Hermione answered her question and Black nodded in agreement. Harry grinned as he saw them. The sight was almost familiar to him: it was repeated every time they went out shopping since Hermione and he had returned from Hogwarts.

'Muggle Studies' as Hermione called it. It, however, reminded Harry of a training course on the topic of 'How to be a good husband' or 'How a father's supposed to behave.' Hermione had been always chastising Sirius for his lenient behaviour towards Anne and she had started trying to correct his spoilage as soon as she had moved in.

Seeing Black's somewhat miserable expression, the woman in the next queue smiled at him sympathetically.

"It's not easy with kids, isn't it?"

Hermione straightened up and cast an indignant glance at her, but Black was simply shocked by her words. Harry, on the contrary, was enjoying the situation.

"I'm not a kid," Hermione said offended.

"Of course you're not," Black said. Harry snickered again. The woman rolled her eyes.

"Teens," she told him with a flash of understanding on her face. "I have two."

Now, Black was clearly frightened.

"Er..."

Harry had to bite back a laugh. He choked. Hermione turned her head to him and comprehension dawned on her face.

"Oh..." she said in fluster.

"They aren't mine," Black managed to mutter. The woman's eyes widened, but Harry couldn't decide whether she was surprised or suspicious.

"He is our guardian," Harry added hurriedly. Surely, Black was always behaving so stupidly! Why did he have to tell her the truth?

"Yeah, they are orphans," Sirius hastily confirmed Harry's words.

The woman's expression softened and she cast a closer glance at Black.

"Noble task," she nodded solemnly. "To raise up those poor things..."

Black just nodded uncertainly. Hermione flushed.

"Let's move, Sirius. We are next," Harry whispered and nodded towards the cash desk. "And don't forget: green button, your PIN and the green again."

Black was very self-satisfied when they left the register.

"It's like doing magic again," he explained to Harry as they headed towards the bus stop.

"There are many magical things in the Muggle world, you'll see," Hermione said. "In the next week, electricity and telephone will be installed in your house..."

"...it will be a typical Muggle house then," Black mumbled sadly.

"It won't be too bad, Sirius," Anne suddenly said. "We won't need Quiet or Hermione or the other men's help to turn on or off the light and we can call granddad whenever we want!"

Dumbledore discovered that Anne's grandfather was still alive, but too ill to take care of the girl. Anne and Sirius had already visited him in the hospital and he had made them promise to call and visit him on a regular basis. The old man was overwhelmed when he learned that his granddaughter was alive: he had believed himself being the last living member of his family. His daughter's death (Anne's mother was his daughter) had killed his wife and severely damaged his health as well.

Anne's granddad in the hospital made Harry remember Severus suddenly. The mere thought of his 'dad' (it was awfully strange now for Harry to think Severus as his 'dad') saddened him. Things didn't go well with him, not at all. Harry hadn't been allowed to see him for two weeks: whenever he went to St Mungo's the healers had caught him and sent back to Black Manor. He wasn't allowed to visit him.

"When?" he always asked.

"In due time," was the only answer.

"Why?"

"He needs time to adjust," they said and accompanied him to the closest fireplace pushing a handful of Floo powder into his hand.

Every time Harry heard these words he felt as if cold hands grabbed his throat and...

"Quiet? Are you all right?" a warm touch on his arm dragged him out of his daze.

"Yeah. Fine," he mumbled.

They were already sitting in the bus heading towards Black's house. Harry lifted his eyes to Hermione's face and saw her worry. Her chocolate orbs looked at him with obvious concern.

"It's Severus, isn't it?" she asked quietly.

Harry averted his glance from her to Sirius and Anne. They were deep in a conversation about a certain Mike, who, as Harry had learned from Anne some days ago, was one of the girl's classmates. Harry turned back to Hermione.

"I don't think he will regain his memories," he said just as quietly as her.

Hermione nodded.

"Yes, you've already told that. Are you sure?"

"Quite."

Hermione sneaked her hand to Harry's and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Everything will be all right, you'll see."

Harry shook his head.

"I don't know," he said, but Hermione's concern eased his sorrow somehow.

Since they'd arrived to Black Manor their friendship had developed enormously. It had begun at the first night there, when an especially nasty nightmare woke Harry. He hadn't even tried to go back to sleep, he knew himself too well to attempt it. Instead, he had got up and still under the nightmare's effect staggered to the kitchen to have a mug of hot chocolate or a cup of tea before reading. Reading had become his custom in the last months, since he had to leave Severus's quarters and he had to face his night-time monsters alone.

So, he was about to go to the kitchen when, walking in the corridor, he had heard a muffled voice from the living room. Hermione had been there curled up in one corner of the couch, crying. Crying, without tears: it had been so familiar to Harry, it reminded him of Severus's silent suffering. Without thinking he had sat next to her, first feeling not a little awkward not knowing what to do. He hadn't wanted to talk, at least not immediately, and he knew only one way to calm her down, to offer help: physical contact. He had put a tentative arm on her shoulders, alarming her at first, but a moment later she had accepted his comfort and cuddled tightly to him. Harry's first feeling had been an almost overwhelming nausea at the too close bodily contact, but he had forced himself to hold her, hugging her even more tightly, and the uncomfortable feeling left.

"I don't want to live any more," Hermione had said trembling and clinging on Harry. "Life stinks."

Harry had murmured some nonsense in return and finally, the first sobs erupted from Hermione and she just cried and cried for long minutes, perhaps hours, her tears had soaked Harry's pyjamas. They had been sitting there until Hermione fell asleep exhausted from crying - and the next day she had confessed that it was the first time she had let herself grieve.

After that night, they had spent many similar hours in the living room, sitting, talking, drinking hot chocolate, reading - anything just not to be alone in their bedrooms. Usually, Hermione fell asleep on the couch, and Harry levitated her to her room (he could use magic in Black Manor, since it was the Headquarters of the Order and it had strong damping spells on it so magic use inside wouldn't be detected by the Ministry) and went to sleep.

Their conversations had been mostly about Hermione - Harry hadn't felt ready to talk about Severus.

Not until this moment.

"I miss him," he whispered and Hermione leaned toward him and clasped his hand more strongly.

"He will be back," her brown eyes were blazing now. "He will learn again to love you."

"I have to lie to him. Dumbledore forced me. I think once he will know the truth he will reject me once and for all."

"Why?"

"He will believe I'm cheating him."

"Are you sure?"

"I know him," Harry's answer was too definite to leave any more room for arguing.

Not much later they were back in the Manor having lunch together with some Order members, then Harry bid them goodbye and went to the hospital, like every previous day.

This time, however, the Head Healer seized him before he could be caught by any other healer.

"Mr Snape, please, for a word," she said quietly, but very firmly so Harry couldn't even try to protest. He followed the woman obediently. "To my office," she ushered him inside. "Sit down, please."

Harry sat down, but he didn't dare to look up until he felt the healer's eyes on him, who, in the meantime seated herself behind her desk.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked in a tiny, fearful voice, praying for a reassuring answer.

"Er... no, not really. Your father is seemingly all right, but... Look, Quietus," the woman's voice suddenly sounded warmer and softer and every official hint disappeared from her behaviour. "Albus told me that you're going to live with him from the 1st of August..."

"Wait!" Harry exclaimed. It was something he'd never heard before. "Can I... Will I... he..."

The witch smiled at him.

"Yes, we'll release him then..." she began but Harry interrupted her-

"It means that he will recover and regain his memories by then?"

The smile faded from the kind face and Harry could see the lines of tiredness and sadness replacing its place.

"No, I don't think so. And... this is the reason I want to talk to you. But," she lifted her hand forbiddingly as Harry opened his mouth to cut in again. "I ask you to listen to me attentively first, and after, if you still don't understand something I will explain it. Right?"

Harry just nodded and leaned back into the chair he was sitting in. The healer inhaled deeply, then she pulled out her wand and cast several locking, silencing and anti-eavesdropping spell onto the room. Once she finished she circled her desk and put out the fire of the fireplace and leaning to the mantelpiece she turned her head to Harry.

"In order to aid Severus's healing Albus told me everything he thought I must know about him - and naturally about you. He even revealed to me your real identity asking my total discretion in the matter..."

"Why does he trust you?" Harry couldn't bite back the question. The woman cast an annoyed glance at him, but her annoyance disappeared soon.

"Well... it's understandable that you don't trust almost anybody, but look lad, I knew Albus for fifty years or more so, I've been tending ill people since I left Hogwarts almost eighty years ago..."

"But you don't look like more than forty!" Harry cried with surprise and straightened up. The woman smiled again.

"I'm ninety-six, young man, and thank you for your compliment."

Harry slumped back into the chair embarrassed. "Sorry," he muttered.

"No need," the smile shone for another moment on the kind face then waned again. "So, where to begin?" she mused for a while, then she began. "It's not the first time I have treated Severus. He was my patient almost sixteen years ago, after Albus brought him out of Azkaban, so I knew a great deal about him. I knew about his family, his brother, his past as a Death Eater and later as Albus's spy, and even about his problems with his schoolmates, because all these were - and still are - his worst memories he was compelled to re-live several times in the prison. Albus really didn't have a lot to tell me about him, just the last year really, which was completely unknown for me, because before that he led a quiet life in Hogwarts devoting himself to his profession... but that's not important for you to know," she stepped up to the other chair facing Harry's and sat down. "As you know, he cast a very complex Memory Charm on himself. Basically, he Obliviated two things: the last one year and - in order to prevent his captors' possible guessing - his memories about his brother. The first isn't a big deal, it's generally easily reparable under certain circumstances, and even if you can't repair it, it doesn't cause serious problems. It's like a simple amnesia. Do you know what that is?" when Harry nodded, she went on. "The second, however, is much more serious. There are too many things in Severus's life and memories, which are connected with his brother. Quietus, your biological father, always played an exorbitantly big role in his life. He hardly has any independent memories. Which means that his whole emotional life was turned upside down. His whole childhood now is a mess for him. He has memories about his parents, but these are only pictures, because Quietus was always there with him. He doesn't know what he feels towards his parents now - when he was a child he respected them, later his respect turned into hatred, but both his respect and hatred was just a part of his web of life, which contained Quietus too and his feelings modified severely Severus's own emotions... He has almost completely lost track of his past motives. He hardly understands himself, he knew many thing about himself, but he can't see why he chose one way above another..."

"But... it doesn't mean that he will go crazy, does it?" Harry choked through his narrowed throat, his hand clutching desperately the arms of the chair.

"No I don't think he will. He is a very strong person and although he needed some time to regain his self-control he is almost all right now."

"Was he... mad? Was that the reason I couldn't visit him?"

"No," the woman said firmly. "He wasn't 'mad' in any sense of the word. He was depressed and he didn't want to see anybody for a week. After, he was irritated so much that I didn't allowed you to visit him, because I didn't want to risk hurting you - emotionally, of course. He had several quarrels with Albus and with me, it took some time to persuade him about the necessity of the future treatment. He finally agreed, but he didn't want to see you at all. In the end Albus suggested letting you in the process and I found it a good idea..."

"He doesn't want to see me." Harry shut his eyes feeling the pricking of the tears underneath his lashes. Severus, again, was his... enemy instead of- of what? Father? Friend?

"He doesn't know you, Quietus, he..."

"But it's not my bloody fault!" Harry cried with distress. The healer just nodded at him with comprehension.

"I know. And I understand if you feel all of it is unjust toward you, but we can hardly do anything about it. You have to regain his trust. This summer will give you the chance to do it: you will be involved into his treatment and you will spend the whole of August with him."

"How did he accept my involvement?"

"Surprisingly well. He had a little tantrum about stupid teenage boys, but Albus told him that you were the best student of your year and it made him think. Finally, he didn't protest when I announced him your visit today - I hoped that you would show up even today just like the past weeks."

"So... I can visit him," Harry said, but it was a question rather than a statement.

"Yes, you can. One more thing yet, Quietus," the woman told him just as he jumped to his feet. "You can't tell him anything about the past."

"Anything?" Harry asked with total disbelief. "But then... why?"

"Your stories could interfere with Severus's slowly emerging memories and the interference might be so serious that it could damage his memory beyond repair. Any every memory is connected to another, so it could cause a domino effect amongst his memories."

"It COULD cause necessarily, or it MIGHT cause accidentally?" Harry retorted fast and sharply.

"It's all accidental, young man, but you can never know what would cause a similar effect like that on him," suddenly, she showed her age: Harry could see it in the eyes, in the wrinkles, in the slight frown around her mouth.

"So, I can't talk to him," Harry said irritated. "I can sit with him in silence enjoying his temper tantrums or what?"

"No need to snap, Mr Snape," the warm tone turned a little colder. "You can talk about many things, which are not connected to his memories. You can talk about the facts, for example, but you can't talk about the events."

Harry felt confusion.

"I don't understand, madam," he said a little more politely this time.

"You can tell him the mere facts without any description if the topic is connected to any of his memories directly. But you can tell him whole stories with full description he wasn't present at."

"I understand. I can't give him mental images so as not to corrupt his slowly emerging memories."

"Precisely. And you can't give him hints about HIS feelings in past situations. Or more: the best is if you don't speak about his past feelings to him at all."

Harry lifted his hand to his head and massaged his temples and rubbed his aching eyes.

"It will be damned hard. It's impossible."

"Albus thinks you are intelligent enough to do it."

"Well... any tips how to do that?"

"Count up to ten before answering a question."

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"Oh, the son finally remembered that he has a father!" Snape lifted his head and sent a sneer towards Harry's direction. The word 'son' from his mouth sounded like an insult. Harry stopped dead in the door and swallowed hard.

"I was here every day. The healers didn't let me visit you," his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Fortunately," Snape's sneer deepened. "So? What are you doing here?"

Harry felt extremely stupid. Really, what was he doing there?

"I just wanted to see you..." he managed to croak and shifted his weight from his left leg to the right.

"You saw me. You can go now," pure, acid sarcasm dropped in the man's words.

"No," Harry stepped finally in and closed the door with a small click. "We'll have to live together in August and I want you to be familiar with having me around before then."

"Why should I live with you in my free time?" Snape shrugged. "You have a place to live even now, don't you? You can live there in August as well."

"Yes, but you are my official guardian, Severus," Harry hoped that he didn't say anything problematic for the healing process.

"Severus? Who allowed you to use my first name?"

Snape seemed outraged now. Harry inhaled deeply.

"You are my father. What should I call you?" this answer seemed again neutral enough.

"Oh, this father stuff, again. Who told you I'm your father?"

How to answer now? Harry's thoughts were racing.

"Look at me," he said finally with a well-practiced frown he learned from Severus.

Suddenly, the man's tension somewhat lost its vehemence. Severus's brows furrowed as he cast a long, scrutinising look at him.

"Well, according to your appearance you are really my son. However, I'm quite sure I've never sired any."

"But I'm here and I'm unmistakably a Snape," Harry complained.

"Appearance could easily lead you astray, boy," Snape said in a flat voice. Harry cringed to the coldness in that familiar voice. All of a sudden, he felt deadly tired.

"You can always ask for a blood test," he suggested finally. "You can even brew a potion to identify me or cast an Identifying Spell on me." _At least you would know that I'm your brother's son_, Harry thought to himself, _and I don't have to lie so much._

"The Identifying Spell can be used only by Ministry officers," Snape said smirking. "The blood test or the potion can just render the parenthood probable, not sure."

Harry shrugged.

"I won't tell them if you use it. Anyway, you can see our documents in the Ministry of Magic, if you don't want to believe me."

"You aren't as intelligent as Albus told me," the man crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why?" Harry asked in a neutral tone. "Just because I told you that you can cast the Identifying Spell on me? I know that its use is forbidden and even the Ministry officers are allowed to cast it on a corpse, because..."

"Stop," Snape lifted his arm to accentuate the command. Harry shut his mouth and shrugged again. "I ask a blood check now, and I want to perform it. No tampering."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"It will show you I'm your son," he predicted but didn't protest. _And you will believe a lie to be the truth _he added sadly to himself.

Severus stood up and waved at Harry.

"Let's go."

Harry followed Severus obediently, and he was a little surprised how well the man knew the hospital. He led them to the staircases without any signs of hesitation.

"How do you know where the laboratories are in the hospital?" Harry asked curiously as they descended to the basement.

"You don't want to become a Potions Master, do you?" the man asked back arrogantly.

"I don't know yet," Harry said truthfully. "Why?"

"Laboratories are always in the basement," Severus smirked again.

Harry smirked back mischievously.

"I see. If there's an incident in the dungeons you can immediately demolish the whole building in one go as well, so you don't have to have any needless fuss about reconstructing it."

"Generally, there aren't any Longbottoms in professional labs," Snape said coldly.

"There aren't now, but you don't know anything about the future," Harry barely could restrain his laughter. Snape stopped and turned to him.

"Your point is?"

"If I'm not mistaken, Neville Longbottom will be in your NEWT Potions class starting in September," Harry said as impertinently as he could. They continued their way to the lab.

"Impossible," Snape answered firmly after some steps. "I don't think he can pass his OWLs in Potions but even if he can manage it somehow I accept only those into my NEWT Potions class who got Outstanding in Potions," he smirked. "There are too many volatile potions in the NEWT project and I really don't want to ruin Hogwarts..."

"We'll see," Harry smiled mysteriously.

"And what about you?" Snape suddenly changed topics and knocked on the lab's door.

"You mean me and Potions?" Harry asked. When Snape nodded he smirked. "I don't know yet. I haven't received the official notification concerning my OWL results."

"How do you feel?" the man seemed curious.

"You can't get rid of me so easily," Harry told him. The door suddenly opened up and he could see the forbidding figure of a large witch standing in the frame.

"What do you want? Can't you read?" she asked angrily and pointed her index finger to a piece of paper hanging on the door. It read: KNOCKING IS FORBIDDEN.

"Stand aside, Lamarre," Snape snapped. "I need the lab for an hour."

"Professor Snape..." the forbidding figure somehow slumped and became rather sheepish. "Of course, but I have to inform the..."

"Then go and tell," Snape entered the lab with Harry in his heel.

"But you are not supposed to bring a..."

"He's my son," he said acidly.

"Oh, I didn't know..."

"Neither did I."

Harry felt a sudden urge to snicker. In reality he hated this side of Severus, the impolite, typical git side, but Mrs (or Miss?) Lamarre's behaviour was irritating enough to earn Severus's despising. When the woman left Harry turned to Severus.

"Are you allowed to enter here?"

"As a Potions Master of this institution, of course I'm allowed."

"But you..." Harry shook his head. Apparently, there were many things about Severus he hadn't learned in the past one year they'd spent together.

"I don't work here," the Potions Master finished his sentence. "But I'm working for them. And they use many of my invented potions," he said, but in the meantime he stepped up to a storage cabinet and got out an officially sealed vial with a clear orange potion inside. Its label read: 'Clearing Potion'. He uncorked the bottle and poured its contents into a tiny cauldron. He put on a fire and placed the cauldron on it. "You didn't know that, did you?"

Harry stared at him while he was thinking of an adequate answer.

"I guess there are many things I don't know about you," he said finally. "That one year we spent together wasn't seemingly enough to know everything about each other. And you're not the chatty type..."

Snape curled his lips.

"Of course I'm not!" he said indignantly. "So let me see," he leaned over the shimmering vessel. "It's hot enough," he said and divided the potion in two smaller glasses. "Give me your index finger."

Harry reached his hand out and let Snape prick it with a carefully disinfected needle. He pricked it and let one drop fall into one of the glasses. Then he did the same to himself.

"What next?" Harry asked, and he felt a little nervousness rising in his throat. Severus and he always accepted the fact that Harry was indeed Quietus's son, but now, he felt a little agitated. He learned enough last year to know that the Adoption Spell Severus used the night after his fake burial would have worked even if he weren't his nephew - just as James Potter's Adoption Spell had worked splendidly for fifteen years - and now doubts assaulted him.

"We wait a few minutes - five, I think will be enough," Snape answered, his voice thick with suppressed curiosity.

Harry nodded and tried to think of the wand they'd made together, or Quietus's wand, his journal, Dumbledore's tale, but everything suddenly seemed dubious and unsure. What if he wasn't Severus's nephew? The Severus he had known from Nightmare Manor would have considered him as his son, even if the result of the test hadn't been positive, but this man wasn't that Severus, this was more the Snape he had known from his fourth year Potions classes: frowning, menacing and thoroughly... well, mean. The git. Harry shut his eyes tightly.

"Nervous, aren't we?" the teasing tone made Harry shudder with disgust.

_The Return of the Git_, he thought to himself. He had to begin everything over and over again. He seemingly didn't have any firm place to stand: up and down, always this roller-coaster.

"No, I'm not," he said after a while. "I simply don't know how to react to your new self." Harry looked up. He saw as the ugly smirk disappeared from Severus's face and an anxious expression replaced it. Yes, Severus surely thought that his 'son' had never seen this side of him. At the end, it was Snape who ended the eye contact and began to search something furiously in the drawers. When he found it, he smirked again and placed it on the desk.

Then he lifted the two glasses and wheeling towards the light he compared their colours. Harry began to relax. He couldn't see any difference between the two potions' shade of light blue.

"You put the checking paper into them, don't you?" he asked. He knew the checking paper from his previous year's studies. It was commonly used in potions: when somebody wanted to compare two, seemingly identical potions, they used these tiny stripes. Sometimes, even Snape had used them to juxtapose one of his pupil's potions, which seemed perfect to one of his own. It had to be put first into the supposedly right potion for one minute - then the stripe showed 100% - and after into the second one. If the result was 95% or more the two potions were considered 'identical', over 90% there were 'almost identical' (there were many cases when even the 'almost identical' grade could be accepted) over 80% it was 'similar', between 70 and 80 it was 'related'. "It has to be over 70, doesn't it?"

Severus shook his head.

"70% shows just close blood relation. It has to be over 83" he carefully hung the strip in his glass "for the parenthood to be credible. The best result is the 'almost identical', because the amount of blood isn't too large in the Clearing Potion." He checked the soaked piece of paper. It showed 100%. He nodded and cautiously placed it into Harry's glass. "So, let's see what Dumbledore and you want me to believe," Snape let a satisfied grin rule over his face. "What's your little tale for me today?"

Harry suddenly wanted to push Snape's head into his still shimmering cauldron and to leave him alone. On the other hand, he somehow understood his suspicions. He, Harry, or Quietus Harold Snape wasn't really his son. For another moment, Harry wanted the checking paper to show something under 83% and he could finish that row of lies, but then...

"Oh," he heard Snape's surprised groan. Harry didn't look at the wet strip. From what he heard from Snape's direction the result had to be over 90.

"94%!" Snape exclaimed surprised. "But... Albus said your mother was a mud- Muggleborn."

Harry shuddered shortly with disgust. Mudblood! Beautiful!

"Worse," he said sarcastically. "She wasn't a mudblood, father. She was just a piece of mud herself, a simple Muggle!" he yelled the last words from the top of his lungs, then he wheeled on his heel and stormed out of the lab slamming the door behind him.

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When Harry arrived home he thought that day couldn't turn worse. He was wrong.

He had a painful and long night vision with a satisfied and madly laughing Dark Lord and a large amount of physical torture. Harry accepted the pain without complaint and struggled hard to pick up as much information as he could, when he had to witness two, insupportable things. One of them was Leah's first kill and her initiation, the other was Avery, again... Harry wanted to suppress his suffering, but after the first slash of the man's razor his whole skin started burning and by the time Sirius and Hermione shook him awake his pyjamas and sheeting were soaked with his own blood.

"Harry?" he could hear two worried, almost panicked voices still in half-daze, and he felt two arms circling him and holding him tightly. "He is bleeding, Sirius," it was Hermione's voice, not a little hysterical.  "He is bleeding!"

"Don't yell," Harry croaked in a hoarse voice. "We aren't deaf." But he moved closer to her, just as he used to curl up to Severus after similar nightmares.

"What happened?" Sirius asked from above.

"Avery and his razor," Harry said, however, he suspected the others couldn't understand him.

Silence.

"Has it happened before?" Hermione whispered uncertainly. When Harry groaned a 'yes' she went on. "What did Professor Snape do in these occasions?"

"Anti-Bleeding Potion, warm bath and some other potions to relax my muscles and help to heal my cuts, but I have none of them in my trunk. But," he opened his eyes. "Sirius, there is a large bottle of Anti-Bleeding Potion if you open the third lock, that large, purple potion, please," he sat up and took the bottle from Sirius's hand.

"Do you use it often?" Sirius asked while he looked Harry gulping some draughts.

"No," Harry answered and wiped the potion from his mouth with his pyjamas' sleeve. "Just when my cuts open. It was the third time now."

"When were the first two?" Sirius asked again, but this time it was Hermione who answered his question.

"The first was in September or October, four weeks before the Aurors' first checking visit. The second was Ron's attack in January..."

Harry sighed.

"I received these cuts in Nightmare Manor. It was Avery who did this to me. I almost died there from excessive bleeding." He shut his eyes again, and he suddenly wanted Severus back. Now. "I think this was the turning point between Severus and me. He was terrified that I would die. He... he..." Harry couldn't continue. He felt very cold inside and a pang of guilt that he had left Severus that day in the lab, just because...

Oh. The warm water refreshed him. Severus... But when he opened his eyes he saw Sirius leaning over him, and then he was carried back to a bed - his cleaned bed, surely it was Hermione, and somebody shoved a mug of hot tea into his hand. Hermione sat next to him and wrapped a common blanket around them, Sirius seated himself into a chair next to the bed, both of them staring at him intensely, and suddenly, Harry heard himself talking and talking about everything they hadn't know, about his, their happy days in hell, about Severus, their conversations, feelings, and finally, their revelations; the wand they had made together, the escape, Pettigrew, the night Severus had taken him back to the Snape family, his new outlook the day after, the Weasleys, the Noblestone family, the Bloody Baron and his short, but unfortunate relationship with Leah, and he talked and talked, as he felt: without an end, and he when he arrived at the point when Severus had lifted his wand and Obliviated himself, he could hear Hermione's choked sob and Sirius's ragged sigh and he felt a terrible, irreparable loss, his heart hurt and he understood that Severus would never be the same.

Never.

He was sure. He was sure, because while he was narrating the past months' events he felt that his life would have been totally different without all those things, and his present feelings towards those happenings made him the person he was - and Severus didn't remember and didn't have these feelings.

It would be a very long and painful year, Harry was suddenly sure.

And he wasn't waiting for it.

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Next day a large, brown barmy owl was tapping Harry's window. He didn't know the bird, and first he didn't recognise the handwriting on the envelope. He unfolded the parchment slipped into it and glanced to the bottom.

Ares.

_Quiet,_

_I don't know what to do. My mother sent me to my uncle, because the Ministry is watching our house, and there are a lot of DEs (you know who I'm talking about), and my mother is pressing me to leave the school, because I will have my OWLs in two weeks and join the 'rank I belong in' (these are her words)._

_I'm scared. I don't want it. I remember your words, and I don't know how I can find a way out. I don't think I have too much time to think._

_I don't know what to do._

_Write me if you have any ideas._

_But do it quickly._

_Ares_

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2nd chapter: next week's first half


	2. Duels

Betaed by Barbara.

I forgot to write my usual disclaimer , so:

Disclaimer: This is a derivative work of fiction based on the work of J. K. Rowling. The copyright for this story belongs to her as well under international copyright law. This means dear reader, she can take characters and ideas from this story to use in her work, and is not required to attribute the source. However, the rest of you have to cite this work if you wish to use a character of a plot element. 

Thank you for the numberless reviews! You still are spoiling me!

My bluebird, here's the next chapter!

**Warning: I beg you to read my previous stories with more attention. You ask me many questions about things I CLEARLY stated in them. Malfoy, Fudge, Erica, Anne, Sirius knowing things about Harry and so on... Please, check them. I don't want to write facts again and again. This was the reason I ask you to write my stories as a whole. I DO have a plan, so things are NOT random in the stories!**

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**Chapter 2 - Duels**

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Harry was staring blankly out of the window. He was sitting on the sill, a large tome lay on his knees, which he used as a desk, his fingers were playing idly with a quill. He was helpless. He read and re-read Ares's letter, but he didn't have a clue what advice he might give to his friend. Sometimes he cast a glance at the almost empty parchment on the tome. There was only one word on it:

_Ares,_

And he simply couldn't continue. He was too tired to think properly, the previous day's happenings, including Severus's rude comment and his vision with Avery had sapped his strength and now, he felt drained and exhausted. Sirius and Hermione's behaviour after the previous night's confession disturbed him as well, during the late breakfast they had treated him like he had been grieving or seriously ill: they had hushed their voices and thrown sympathetic looks every now and then towards him. Finally, Harry had had enough and withdrawn into his room to answer Ares's worries.

For a moment, Harry considered seeking help from Severus, but after a short musing he rejected the idea. Their relationship wasn't the way it used to be, and even in the past, Severus hadn't trusted the boy. He would surely consider this letter as a trap, but if there was a trap it was laid for Ares, and not for Harry.

Harry's throat tightened as he tried to imagine Ares's situation. Every time he considered it, he felt a wave of relief flood over him over his own condition: he had been never compelled to choose between joining Voldemort and... And what? Surely, Ares's family wasn't about to give him over to the Dark Lord, like Severus's parents - his grandparents! - had done to his father! Surely not! Harry buried his face into his palms. He couldn't be sure. He didn't know Ares's family at all, and Ares had hinted many times that he suspected his mother to be a Death Eater just like his father had been. Severus's parents had been cruel enough to torture their sons and to administer the killing curse to the younger of them. And the tone of Ares's letter... scared Harry. Ares had been horrified: the repeated use of the sentence 'I don't know what to do', the shaky handwriting, and the confession of his fear - all were the proofs of his friend's inner turmoil and helplessness.

He couldn't leave him in the lurch. Ares had stood by him even after the older Malfoy's appearance, even after he had been sorted in Gryffindor, Ares had been always there in his own, silent but supportive manner. Harry had the suspicion that Malfoy and his gang had beaten him at least once, however, Ares had done a brilliant job of hiding it...

So, what to write now?

He sighed and licked the quill's nib.

_Ares,_ he wrote, _I'm afraid I can't give you any good advice. But if things turn more dangerous I think you should come here. You know where I am and the fireplace is almost always open. Be careful. Don't take too much risk. Q._

He folded the parchment and stepped up to Ares's owl. The bird hooted, flew out the open window and in some minutes he disappeared in the gloomy sky. Just in time. A soft knock startled Harry, who was staring after the owl.

"Come in!" he said and turned around. Sirius popped his head in at the door.

"Am I disturbing you?" he asked and Harry shook his head in response.

"No."

Sirius stepped in and closed the door.

"I... I want to talk to you," he said cautiously. Harry rolled his eyes and pointed to a chair.

"You can sit down," Harry said and seated himself in the chair opposite. "It's somehow less formal."

Black sat, but he was uncomfortable, Harry could see. The man was shifting and didn't lift his eyes from his toes.

"So?" Harry asked impatiently.

"How serious is Severus's... amnesia?" Sirius croaked, his eyes still fixed to the floor.

"Enough," Harry said. "He doesn't remember the last year and his brother."

"You seemed upset yesterday after you came back from the hospital..."

"Well..." Harry didn't intend to give Sirius a reason to be mad at Severus. "This was the first time we met for weeks, and he didn't want to believe the Headmaster's story about me being his son."

"But you are NOT his son!" Black exclaimed and now, he looked directly at Harry, who became nervous.

"Yes, I know that I'm not his son biologically, I don't need you to remind me!" he snapped back, but the next moment he managed to calm his voice down. "Anyway, I asked Dumbledore not to lie to Severus, but he disagreed. In his opinion we need to lie in order to maintain my cover. The Headmaster thinks that Severus wouldn't accept me if he knew the truth about my parentage. I don't think he's right, but I'm pretty sure we can't tell Severus the truth about my real identity."

"Why?" Black asked to Harry's great astonishment.

"Good Lord, Sirius! Severus Snape HATES Harry Potter!" he cried impatiently.

"But he tried to save you in that damned prison! And you told me he saved you in your first year as well..."

"Yeah, because my mum forced him to protect me," Harry said in an annoyed voice. "She made him swear on his brother's name to protect me. But for him, his brother doesn't exist any more. Neither does his love towards Quietus. Just the forced oath, which, as he confessed me there, just made him hate me even more."

"That damned greaseball..."

"SIRIUS!" Harry snapped warningly. "Whatever happened he is still the man I love as my father!"

"But how?"

"Didn't you pay any attention last night? We grew to know and to respect each other. We were locked up in the same cell for two weeks. We were beaten and almost killed there. We..."

"But the situation is different now," Black said suddenly. "And I... Listen, Harry, I don't really think that he will accept you without..."

"Yeah, I know," Harry's anger evaporated and was replaced by a sudden tiredness. "I know. And I know that he will figure out eventually that I'm Harry Potter, because he isn't that stupid. My only hope is that by then, I can get through his walls... somehow..." his voice faded.

"If he hurts you I swear I..." Sirius began, but Harry interrupted.

"He is a wizard and you are a Squib now, Sirius. You can't do anything against him. In the other hand I can handle him. I know him even if he doesn't know me. And... Sirius, I'm not a kid any more. I can protect myself."

"You are not even sixteen!" Black smiled slightly. "However, in your age I too considered myself an adult, but later..."

"Sirius, you didn't have to face Voldemort when you were my age. You didn't have to go through two weeks of torture, to witness deaths, to play a role for months, to abandon your friends... And as for Severus, he was always there for me..."

"It was not my fault that I couldn't!" Sirius snapped.

"I know. It wasn't my fault either. It just happened this way and we can't change anything," Harry's voice was filled with resignation. Silence fell on them.

"Harry?" Sirius asked tentatively some minutes later.

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too, Sirius."

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Snape was lying on his bed and reading _The Advanced Brewer_'s last issue. Harry recognised it immediately when he entered his room. It was this issue, which contained Severus's publication about the modified Wolfsbane Infusion - it had come out while Severus was lying unconscious in the hospital. Harry, however, had read his uncle's copy and he was genuinely surprised that he understood almost everything. Well, he had had to do a little research in the library to comprehend some confusing passages, but the thing in itself wasn't too complicated.

"I see you've already had a look at it," Snape said suddenly and closed the journal.

"Oh," Harry smiled. "You read my questions on the margin." He had scribbled there those things he needed Severus's explanation about.

"I like the way you ask your questions," the Potions Master waved Harry to sit down and opened the copy again. "This one, for example..." he began to explain the first question.

Long discussion followed his every statement and the next half hour passed so fast that neither of them realised what the time was when they finally finished. When a nurse came to alert them about dinner, they were surrounded by doodled parchments, Harry was kneeling on a chair and leaning over the desk to see the pictures Snape drew to clarify his descriptions. They were so deep in conversation that they didn't notice the woman, who left them alone with a smile on her face.

"Hey, Severus, you'd better heal as fast as you can, because I don't think Hermione and I can brew it properly for Re- ops," Harry gulped and stopped in half-sentence as he noticed Severus's nearly shocked expression. For some minutes, Harry completely forgot about Snape's condition, and now, he managed to say something wrong.

The Potions Master who had been gesticulating during their conversation suddenly dropped his hand and clenched his lips into a thin line. For a whole, extremely long minute, there was deep silence. The air froze.

"Do you mean Miss Granger?" Snape asked slowly, and when Harry nodded, he went on. "What are the both of you doing together during the summer?"

"Didn't Dumbledore tell you where I'm living now?" Harry asked hopefully.

"No," a too well-known sneer appeared. "He only assured me that you're safe."

"Well then," Harry sighed and prepared himself for the worst that could happen. "But you won't be happy."

"Spit it out," Snape barked at him.

"You have to know about the end of the last school year..."

"I know that Lucius was the Headmaster for some weeks and killed the actual Defence Teacher," Snape circled his lips into an ugly smirk. "That job is indeed cursed... So? What happened?"

"There was an attack on several Muggle families which had wizarding children. Hermione's - Miss Granger if you like that way - parents were killed and she remained without any living family. You lay unconscious here, so," Harry gulped before the next tiny lie, "Dumbledore let us move in the Order's Headquarters with... er... Sirius Black and his stepdaughter..."

"WHAT!?!" Severus's face was contorted with pure fury. "Are you living with that... that mass murderer? Did Dumbledore go barking mad? I..."

"Shut up!" Harry exclaimed but his reaction just infuriated Snape even more.

"Don't dare to use that tone when you're talking to me, boy!"

"But you..." Harry began enraged, but stopped. "All right," he said much more guardedly and folded his arms over his chest. "You can go on ranting now."

"No, boy," Snape now hissed at him. "Either you behave or leave now, I don't mind. But I won't tolerate this tone toward me!"

Harry just shrugged and he had to force himself from spitting back something venomous. For one moment he almost smiled as he tried to count up to ten - the Healer had had another motives in mind when she gave him that advise.

"Apparently, you can call everybody names, Dumbledore barking mad, Black a mass murderer, my mother a piece of mud, but I have to watch my mouth if I want your precious attention, don't I?" Harry finally said and although the tone was guarded, he knew perfectly that the intent behind it was quite biting.

Another piece of silence.

"That comment about your mother..." Snape began and suddenly seemed a little uncomfortable, but Harry didn't let him finish his sentence.

"I don't mind. We both know that the Headmaster will always be greater and cleverer than us, we both now that Black is NOT a murderer, however, the Wizengamot deprived him his magic and sentenced him to a life imprisonment in Liberty - he didn't receive the Dementor's Kiss only because the Dementors joined Voldemort last summer, and now, he is almost nothing more than a Squib and as for my mother..."

"She wasn't a Muggle, was she?" Snape asked not paying attention to Harry's other words. "She couldn't be - the test results..."

He sounded so hopeful that Harry almost hit him in rage.

"Look, I don't mind your bloody results, I..." but now, he suddenly realised that the Severus he was talking to, was NOT the git he'd known from the Potions classes. He was an ill man, a man who lost his memories and his feelings and right now, he was unable to accept and express - and perhaps even feel - any real emotion. This thought calmed Harry enough to go on more quietly. "I'm not supposed to talk about these things, Severus. You are emotionally involved and I don't know how to tell you that without that interfering stuff the Head Healer warned me not to do. You have to ask the Headmaster instead. As for Black, Hermione and me living together: the Headmaster thought we would be safe in Black Manor since it is now the Order's Headquarters. On the other hand Hermione and I have been raised by Muggles and now, we're teaching Black how to live in the Muggle world. We, and the whole Order are under a Fidelius Charm..."

"But you're not in danger," Snape waved with a sarcastic smile. "You don't need to be 'safe'."

"If that 'you' of yours refers to me, than I have to tell you that I'm indeed in danger. I don't know why Dumbledore didn't tell you, but Voldemort learned your true loyalty and you're not a spy anymore - and you know perfectly well what the punishment for being a traitor's family is."

Snape suddenly paled, and his expression lost its edge.

"He did tell me, but I..." he whispered. "Did that Death Eater stuff when I was caught by the Ministry have anything in common with you?"

"Yeah. Voldemort kidnapped me and he wanted to kill me. You came after me. We barely survived the encounter." Harry hoped that he didn't talk about any event, just the mere facts.

"How could he catch you? You were in Hogwarts, weren't you?" A new, suspicious glance.

"Portkey," Harry said simply, rolling his eyes. Surely, Severus suspected even his own son of breaking the school rules!

"Ah, the old trick. Like in Potter's case." The man's eyes were staring blankly at the ceiling. "Talking of Potter... what's your opinion of him? You are in the same year with that little, spoiled idiot."

"We aren't," Harry's heart began to beat faster and sweat moistened his palms. Snape's eyes left the ceiling and were fixed on his face.

"You were in the fifth year... like Potter! You must know him!"

"He has died, Severus," his voice was weak. As Snape's expression turned disgustingly smug at his revelation, Harry couldn't breath in his sudden emotional pain.

"There are still wonders and fulfilled wishes, I see..."

Harry felt dizzy and nauseous. However, there wasn't anything unexpected.

_'Did you really hate me?'_

_'I have to admit... yes.'_

Snape had confessed it THERE, in Voldemort's hell. Harry understood everything, but it didn't mean it didn't hurt. It hurt like hell, more than anything before in his whole life. He suddenly wanted to be alone, so he jumped to his feet and rushed toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Snape asked after him.

"Away from you. It was enough of you for today." Without glancing back he opened the door and stepped out. But before closing it, he popped his head back in the ajar door and narrowed his eyes at Severus. "Voldemort tortured him for two weeks in Nightmare Manor, and finally, Peter Pettigrew - yes, he, and not Sirius Black! - cast the Killing Curse on him," he looked at the slightly shocked face. "Good bye."

BOUNG!

Harry though he'd never enjoyed slamming the door like this before.

Their relationship didn't seem perfect.

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"Quietus, wait!" a familiar voice stopped him as he left the room in a reckless hurry.

"Wha... Neville!" he exclaimed with surprise. "How... What are you doing here?"

Harry immediately realised that his question was rather tactless as Neville blushed with embarrassment and didn't look at him. 

"The same as you I think," he muttered and Harry felt the same kind of discomfort as his round-faced friend.

Some long minutes of silence followed the opening sentences.

"Sorry," Neville broke it. "You surely didn't know..."

"I knew," Harry confessed. He didn't want to hide more things from Neville than he was entirely compelled to. "Severus told me long ago when I asked his motives about being such a git towards you..."

Neville lifted his head, and Harry could see for a short moment that he was smiling. His smile became wider as his eyes caught someone behind Harry.

"Professor Snape! You're awake!" Neville sounded quite enthusiastic.

Harry's stomach jumped into his throat seeing his friend's open joy over his once hated professor's recovery. He, very slowly, moved his head toward Severus, feeling his limbs stoned. The total terror on Severus's face made his uneasiness even greater.

"Neville, he..." Harry somehow pushed these words through his thigh throat.

"Mr Longbottom, what are you doing here?" Snape, regaining his composure, asked coldly.

An uncertain expression touched Neville's face.

"Oh, er..." he was unable to compose a normal answer.

"Social visit," Harry said fast.

For another moment, the shock returned to the Potions Master's face, but it disappeared almost at once. Just to be replaced with a disquieting and very smug smile, the pair of what Harry had had the misfortune to see some minutes before.

"I see," his lips curled. For not the first time that day Harry felt a sudden urge to punch him.

Now, Neville seemed to understand the situation. He averted his gaze to Harry with a questioning look on his face. Harry just nodded.

"I'd better go," Neville reached his hand to Harry. "See you later, mate."

They shook hand and Neville disappeared. Snape, however, remained there furrowing his brows. He looked livid. Probably he was, Harry thought.

Snape grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him back in the room. He slammed the door behind them and whirled Harry face-to-face to him.

"What was that?" he asked scowling.

"Neville Longbottom, one of your students, who received E in Potions in the mid-term exams." Harry knew that perhaps the mention of Neville's result wouldn't improve the situation but he couldn't help. "And he is one of my friends as well."

"Friend." A slight doubt toned Severus's cold voice.

"Precisely. Along with Hermione Granger and Ares Nott." Harry folded his arms and lifted his head proudly.

"But they are Gryffindors! How could you befriend bloody Gryffindors?"

"Ares is a Slytherin. As for the other two: Dumbledore and you agreed not to sort me, and McGonagall put me together with the fifth year Gryffindors." Harry gulped. For time being, he didn't feel ready to tell Severus about his sorting.

For the first time in the last two occasions Harry caught something in Severus's expression. Something akin tiredness and confusion - and it ebbed his every anger and frustration away.

"Let me tell you," he said softly and stepped closer to the again strictly guarded man. "Let me help you."

The uncertainty crossed Snape's face again.

"I don't think it would be wise. Not yet, at least. Cassia, the Head Healer thinks it should wait. Dumbledore is keeping information from me as well. I understand them, but..." he suddenly realised he was speaking and shut his mouth. Harry felt a pang of anger again - but this time it was directed toward the other two adults.

"They didn't tell me not to talk to you. On the contrary. The Head Healer only asked me not to tell you events, just the facts." Harry could almost touch Severus's hesitation.

"It could be Dumbledore's devious plan again," he muttered suddenly. "He wants us to talk and to know each other."

This Severus was so much alike to the man Harry had grown to love that he cried aloud before thinking.

"But we know each other!" The moment it was out Harry realised his own stupidity. "Sorry," he added immediately. "I forgot to count."

"Count?"

"Up to ten, I mean. Before talking."

Severus just nodded and sank onto his bed.

"Well then. Let's see those facts. Did I know you before last summer?"

Harry's breathing paused for a moment and he began to yell at Dumbledore in his mind for getting him in this mess.

"No," he finally barked out. "You came to fetch me after your escape from Voldemort."

"Escaped?"

"You were his prisoner."

"I... How did he figure out that I was the spy?"

"You tried to save Potter," Harry said as neutrally as he could.

"I. Save. Potter. My goodness, you can't be right!"

Harry felt an urge to swear.

"I think you should count as well. Do you really mean what you said?"

Severus's blank face contorted with confusion. A lot of time flew away before he opened his mouth again.

"This is one of those embarrassing... emotional gaps, as Cassia calls them," he said deep in thought. "I KNOW that I should save Potter in a situation like that, but I'm not sure I'd do that now."

"But... why?" Harry asked tentatively. The answer came almost abruptly.

"Because he is just a stupid, irresponsible, annoying, impertinent, spoiled and big-headed prat, the carbon copy of his father who..." the words stopped. Harry sighed, but stayed silent. "Here is something again I can't remember. James Potter did something I can't recall alongside with that mur... Black." Harry's mood lightened as Severus restrained himself from calling Sirius names. "Then they almost killed me."

"Yes, the werewolf-incident," Harry nodded.

"So, you know it."

"You told me."

"Is there something I didn't tell you?"

Harry decided to sit down. He dragged a chair facing Severus and collapsed on it.

"You told me many things, Severus."

Silence.

"You aren't my son, are you?" The Potions Master suddenly asked.

"Remember the blood check."

"I do, but I still cannot believe it. I should remember you! I didn't Obliviate you! Why should I...?"

"To protect me from the Ministry," Harry whispered defeated.

"But... why should I protect you? What did you do?"

"I'm sorry, Severus," Harry's whisper now was barely audible. "It's something I can't tell you. Not now. Not yet."

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The next days were much quieter and calmer between Harry and Severus. They didn't talk again, Snape recoiled from every kind of conversation, and knowing him, Harry knew that he felt embarrassed, or perhaps even ashamed over those moments of his slight openness. It wasn't something new: Harry remembered perfectly the conversation they had last Christmas about his step-father's Death Eater activities and the days of uncomfortable silence after that. And although the topic wasn't nearly as touchy the mere fact that Harry knew more about Snape or the past year's events was surely rather disturbing, not to mention those 'holes' in his memory. So they settled on to playing chess and discussing potions articles. Their relationship, altogether, didn't develop: Snape didn't even call him Quietus, he didn't ask him about anything and all in all he didn't show any sign that he wanted to know him.

Harry was almost continuously sad, but he refused Sirius's help every time his godfather came to him to comfort him. He didn't want Sirius to rant about Severus, to blame him or be mad at him - no. It hurt Harry, and Sirius didn't show any willingness to understand the situation, so Harry fled whenever Black came near him for a talk. Instead, he accepted Hermione's willing and understanding help - the girl never said a word either against Harry's, or Severus's behaviour, she listened to Harry attentively and without prejudices.

Sirius, after some days decided to leave Harry alone wrapping himself in a distant silence. He was offended. Hermione tried to reconcile them, but Sirius refused to take the first step and Harry declared that he surely hadn't done anything to his godfather, but it was the man, who reacted to the whole situation like a child.

"I don't behave like a child!" Sirius bellowed. "YOU are always tense and irritated EVERY time you return from the hospital, YOU are defending that git who didn't give a damn about you, YOU..."

"SHUT UP!" Harry jumped to his feet. "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING!"

"I understand perfectly!" Sirius rose and put his hands on his hips. "He Obliviated himself! It means that he is NOT the man he used to be, Harry! He doesn't want you around! He doesn't even like you! And if he doesn't regain his memories, he will never be the same!"

"No! You are wrong! They aren't the memories that make the man!"

"They ARE!"

Two purple-faced men stood in the centre of the living room in a menacing manner when Hermione entered.

"Quiet! Sirius! What do you think you're doing?" she asked nervously. "The whole house can hear your stupid quarrel! And Sirius," she turned to the taller man, "DON'T call Quietus any other name than that. We are not alone in the manor, Anne and other Order members are here. You're endangering him by your careless behaviour even though you are supposed to be the adult!"

Sirius clenched his hands into fists, strode across the room without a word and slammed the door behind himself. Harry wheeled to the staircase to get to his room, but Hermione's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Quietus, wait."

His foot almost halted in mid-air, his shoulder slumped.

"What?"

Hermione swallowed hard and stepped closer.

"Sirius is partially right, you know," she said tentatively.

"No," Harry shook his head firmly. But after a moment he added "Or not entirely. At least not in Severus's case," he stopped for a while. "You know, I was thinking about it a lot, and now my opinion is that his character was already formed when the accident happened. The love he received in the past had its effects on him even if he can't remember it now. He's only confused and... I think he felt humiliated as well." Now he faced Hermione. "He needs somebody, you know. And the Headmaster and the Head Healer think I'm the one he needs in this situation. His supposed son, and not a stranger. Even if he can't believe I'm his son - and he is perfectly right." A bitter wrinkle appeared in the corner of his mouth.

"Did you talk to Dumbledore?"

"No. I talked to the Healer. She told me that."

After this conversation Harry spent more time alone in his room. He was grateful to Hermione for interrupting his row with Sirius, because he didn't want to despise him and after the man's irresponsible attitude he was too close to doing that. So he considered it better to stay away from him as much as he could.

The next days passed in a cool atmosphere; neither of the men showed any willingness to open a dialog or even to exchange some neutral words about indifferent subjects and Hermione was compelled to mediate between them and to find a topic to talk about.

She was lucky: two unexpected events came to her help. The Deputy Minister announced the elections and appointed the concrete date on the 30th of August. Right after the announcement the wizarding community came into a commotion, and the commotion became greater after Malfoy's trial had begun.

Both of these topics were of interest for Harry: both the next Minister's identity, and the final judgement in Malfoy's case would play an important part in his and Severus's lives - not to mention their essential role in the war's present situation.

There were many attacks during the summer, the major part of them were a surprise to Dumbledore or Patil - apparently there weren't any order or ministry spies in Voldemort's Inner Circle now that Severus was uncovered, and Harry, through his immense pains could perceive and report only a few pieces of information he caught in his visions, so many times the Light Side suffered enormous losses: the number of victims was already above two hundred including the killed Muggles. Voldemort, however, was cautious not to harm any of his possible allies, he hadn't attacked any of the pureblood families or - surprisingly - only a few of the mixed wizarding families so far. After his attack on those Muggle families which had a wizarding child in May, the Ministry helped the survivors and the occasional future victims to move abroad (mainly to America) and tried to protect those who remained so there was a little break in the last two months, but right after Patil's announcement the attacks had begun again in order to weaken his obviously winning position. Obviously - because it was quite sure that Patil would be the new Minister from September.

Malfoy's case was another matter. Many people of the wizarding community respected him or feared him (it depended on the person) enough to consider him innocent of those horrible crimes the Ministry charged him with. Harry was almost shell-shocked when he first read these opinions in the Prophet's pages in Severus's room in the hospital. When he showed the article to Severus the man only shrugged.

"He has too much money and too many connections. He is a pureblood and a generous philanthropist at that, he was the Headmaster of Hogwarts for four months... Too many things to believe his guilt so quickly," he explained in a bored voice, but by this time Harry was trained enough to see through his feigned boredom and recognise real interest.

Sirius, on the contrary, declared all those incredulities stupidity and he didn't seem inclined to consider things more deeply.

Harry caught himself waiting fervently for August when he would be free from Sirius and his frustrating attitude. Severus, even being a git, was much more tolerable to him than Sirius in his best mood. Harry had actually laughed when this thought occurred to him.

Perhaps he was REALLY a Snape after all.

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Hermione was worried. Quietus (Harry - she simply couldn't think of him as Harry, not really at least, because this boy she became acquainted last year was... well, he was different from that Harry she had known for years) had been losing weight in the last weeks again (more than a stone according to her estimation), his face was no longer pale, but sallow like professor Snape's, he had dark shadows around his eyes and his expression rarely changed into a cheerful one - he was looming bitterly around the house when he wasn't in the hospital...

For a long time, Hermione thought Snape was behind this mood decline so she didn't dare to mention anything about her suspicions. She knew quite well how Quietus had reacted to Sirius's remarks and how their relationship turned into a distant respect instead of the friendship it had been before. Hermione was frightened by the idea of Quietus remaining alone in those hard times, thus she didn't provoke him, just listened every time the boy shared a few of his feelings, fears or pains. Not that she had to do it frequently. Generally, it was she, who received the same treatment from him when the grief caught her: quiet consolation and attentive ears.

But she was wrong. Well, probably she was only partially wrong, because professor Snape's condition really didn't do anything to lift Harry's mood even a bit, but the main reason wasn't that.

It was the constant, every-day experience of Voldemort's tortures. Harry could sleep only a few hours every night. She figured it out by chance.

One night, Harry forgot (or simply didn't want) to levitate her back to her room, and at 3 a.m. she woke up on the rather uncomfortable couch. When she was making her way towards her bed, she saw light under Harry's door. She peered inside cautiously not to wake her accidentally sleeping friend, but Harry wasn't sleeping. He was reading, but he was so tired that he didn't even notice Hermione standing in the open door.

Driven by curiosity, Hermione checked on him the following night.

And the following.

And the following.

And Harry was reading instead of sleeping. Every night, apparently.

Hermione was clueless what to do. She checked on Harry only three times, and she felt so badly because of the lack of sleep that she could barely live through the days. She didn't consider sharing her revelation with Sirius - at this point of their relationship that would be the less clever thing to do. Harry would be mad, Sirius would be mad at Harry's secretive attitude and finally her friend would shut himself up. She was strongly tempted to go to the hospital and ask for the Potions Master's help, but she wasn't sure the man would do anything in the given situation.

She didn't know what to do. So, just for friendship, she checked on Harry every night, planning to enter Harry's room, but she was too afraid of embarrassing him, and so she was just sitting up with him in secret for one or two hours in front of his door. She, however, wasn't as steady as Harry, so she often fell asleep from exhaustion right there on the floor.

In the eighth night of her vigil a muffled voice alerted her from her nap. Without thinking, Hermione stepped into the shady, but not entirely dark room and spotted Harry's curled form immediately. The boy's face radiated pain, but his entire expression showed control over the torment: his fists were clutching in his wrists so hard that his knuckles were white, he was sweating hard and grinding his teeth, but he was lying still. Sometimes little jerks ran through the tensed body and restrained moans rose from his mouth. His behaviour revealed so much self-control... and Hermione didn't need too much time to figure out the reason behind it.

Harry let himself suffer to gain information for the Light Side.

Almost in a daze she sat at Harry's head and put her hand onto his forehead, slowly, not wanting to alarm him, she caressed out the sweat-soaked locks from his face. Suddenly, Harry's body tensed even more and tears began to filter through his eyelids.

"Severus..." he crawled onto Hermione's lap evidently without waking up. "It hurts so much..." he struggled upwards until his head was on Hermione's shoulder.

The girl awkwardly hugged him closer. Harry sighed, his vision was over apparently, but he didn't wake. Hermione felt his nightclothes wet on her shoulder under Harry's head. He was still weeping. She pulled the blanket up to his neck and wrapped around them. She fell asleep with her head leaning to the headboard.

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When Harry woke up in the warm cocoon his first thought was that Severus had found him again. But the body against his was smaller and somehow... different. Even the smell was completely strange. It was something... female.

He glanced up and almost cried out in shock. Hermione was holding him, probably for hours.

Harry moved away slowly, gently and he could see relief on the girl's face as the weight disappeared from her legs. She sighed and turned on her side.

Even more gently Harry pulled her from the sitting position into a lying one, tucked their common, warm blanket around her, slipped to the other part of the bed and summoning another blanket he went back to sleep again.

Only when he heard Black's shattering roar from the door some hours later he realised that perhaps letting Hermione sleep in his bed hadn't been the best thing he could do.

He was still practically asleep when Black pulled him out of the bed, out of the room into Black's bedroom and shoved him to the wall.

"What do you think you're doing in my house?"

Harry opened his eyes with difficulty and yawned.

"What?"

"You - and Hermione in the same bed!" Sirius's face was almost as purple with anger as uncle Vernon's used to be.

"That's nothing," he mumbled and yawning again he crouched down.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Sirius yelled. "You are not even sixteen!"

"I know that," Harry sat.

"And?"

"And what? Look, Sirius let me sleep. I wanna sleep..."

Sirius, however had other things in his mind for Harry. He tugged the boy up and now he had the perfect chance to yell at him face-to-face.

"If I EVER catch you again, boy, I will beat it out of you!"

It was at that point Harry finally came to his senses.

"But we didn't do anything! I had a nightmare and she..."

"You have nightmares too often!" Sirius snapped. Harry gulped.

"Yes, I have." The quiet voice hushed the raging man.

"What did you do?" he asked more calmly.

"Sleep. JUST sleep. We aren't even dating, Sirius! She's my friend, not my... my er girlfriend!" Harry shook his head. "In reality I'm not now longing for another girlfriend. My... last one turned to be a little devious. That was enough for a while I guess," he said and yawned again. "Can I please go back to catch a little more sleep?"

Sirius cast a last, suspicious glance at him, but he waved towards his own bed.

"Use mine. Yours is occupied."

"Thanks, Sirius," Harry mumbled and crawled underneath the blankets.

"I will ask Hermione too just as soon as she wakes up."

"Fine with me," Harry tried to shrug, but he was half-asleep again.

"And I will tell Snape..."

The sleep was abruptly over.

"NO! YOU CAN'T!" Harry jumped out of the bed. "Even if I know you are wrong and there is nothing between me and Hermione, the mere fact of us in the same bed would make Severus completely mad at me! You can't be so cruel! Tell Dumbledore instead, I don't mind, but not Severus, please, Sirius, not Severus," he was babbling the last words as the thought hit him. Surely, Sirius couldn't be so ruthless! He lifted his fear-wide eyes to Sirius's face.

"I'm sorry, Ha- Quietus," Sirius now was flustered. "I won't tell him, don't worry."

Harry collapsed back to the bed.

"Can I sleep then?"

"Yes, you can," the man said and left the room closing the door with a small click.

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Next: Wednesday (I think it would be my future uploading day. Anyway, I don't have as many time as I used to have. I will upload weekly. 


	3. Erica

Betaed by Barbara

**IMPORTANT**: there are prophecies mentioned in this chapter. I want to call your attention to the fact that in my story there are TWO prophecies: one, more specific made by Trelawney about Quietus and his descendant, and another, old one, Dumbledore told Harry about in chapter 7 of CotR. I'm NOT mixing the OotP prophecy into my story I'm not that idiot :-P Or even more, I wrote down that chapter before the OotP came out!

Thank you very much for your reviews!

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Chapter 3 – Erica 

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"So, you know about the Baron."

Severus and Harry were in the hospital's laboratory: after Harry's repeated pleading, the Potions Master had decided to let him help brew the modified Wolfsbane for Lupin. Working together in the lab had an unexpected consequence: it opened a new topic of conversation between the two. While they were chopping, slicing, stirring, and powdering ingredients Severus forgot his oath not to talk to the boy and made a remark, and then other and another... After the first common hour Severus suddenly realised that they were chatting about various topics: now, it was the Bloody Baron.

"Of course I know him. It was the first thing you did last year when we arrived at Hogwarts that you introduced me to him," Harry smiled as he thought of his first meeting with the ghost. "I didn't like him, and when I learned that he was family... It was a royal shock."

Severus cast a suspicious look at him.

"Did you know him before?"

Harry stopped in slicing.

"What?"

"You said you didn't like him."

Harry shrugged and inhaled deeply.

"Well, when I first caught him standing in the dark hallway waiting for you, I nearly freaked out. Then you introduced me..."

"So you decided at first sight that you didn't like him."

Harry shook his head desperately. Talking to a paranoid ex-spy wasn't simple, not to mention lying to him.

"Yes, I regret I did," he finally grinned. "And he said that... Severus, what do you remember now? Do those Memory Locating Charms have any results on your memory?"

A frown crossed the man's face, which was followed by a short, bitter laugh.

"Of course not. I don't remember anything more I did when I woke up a month ago," the laugh faded away. "At least the additional psychological treatment helps me to handle those memory gaps."

"Did they tell you the reason...?"

Severus began to stir the potion in earnest.

"They told me a lot of things. Cassia suspects that I didn't cast the charm properly, so it's impossible to repair."

Harry shuddered and swallowed the lump formed in his throat.

"I see..." It was bad news. Very, very bad news.

They worked in silence for ten minutes. Then Harry, finding it uncomfortable, decided to go on with the previous topic.

"So, the Baron told you," he continued in a perfectly neutral tone, "that he was disappointed in you, because he learned only some weeks ago that you betrayed Voldemort."

Hearing the Dark Lord's name, Severus cast a sharp look at Harry.

"_Voldemort_?" he asked teasingly. "What about You-Know-Who?"

"Come on, Severus," Harry cried out. "I was raised by Muggles. I learned his name when I was sixteen. Muggles aren't afraid of saying mere names!"

"Muggles are stupid."

"Muggles are normal," Harry retorted and quickly he asked, "Do you mind if I tell you this story? You will learn some things about... your past."

"Oh, what a joy learning my past from a boy, who..." Snape sneered and glared at Harry.

"Severus! It's not your fault that you don't remember important things. It's..."

"Then whose fault is that?"

Harry swallowed again.

"Mine, I guess."

"Yours." It was a question.

"Yes, mine," Harry sighed. "You Obliviated yourself in order to protect me from the Ministry. I owe you some... er... explanations."

"You _owe_." Severus's voice dripped with sarcasm. Harry nodded. "In this case, please, tell me the truth about your mother."

Oh, the mother topic, again. Harry was frantically searching a way out from this situation.

"You hate Muggles," he said.

"You're changing the topic."

There was no way out. Harry lifted his head and looked directly into Severus's eyes.

"She was a Muggleborn witch."

A relieved sigh.

"Thank Merlin, it wasn't a Muggle then," Severus muttered under his breath.

Harry furrowed his brows in thought.

"So you were only guessing when you told me about the test results."

"No," Severus returned his attention to the cauldron and put some more drop of Crup's blood into it. "But as I told you the blood test only renders things probable, it doesn't verify them. This is a wizarding blood test. If one of the parents is not a witch or a wizard, the comparison results are generally under 90%. I thought you didn't want to reveal me your mother's identity so you decided to..."

"It was Dumbledore, not me," Harry muttered darkly.

"I think you are aware that the pronoun 'you' can refer both singular and plural. So I..."

"I don't think Dumbledore and I have the same mother," Harry interrupted him grinning nervously.

"You," Severus lifted his voice, but stopped in half-exclamation and grinned back, "are right. So how was that little chat between me and Saevus?"

Harry smiled. He didn't know if it was the potion making or the amount of time he spent with the man, which made him softer towards Harry, but he greeted the slight change happily.

"He reprimanded you for changing sides, but you explained to him your motives and he seemed to understand them."

Severus cast a short, questioning glance towards Harry, but his attention was still on the shimmering cauldron.

"The highlight of my day," he said softly. "I have been wondering what made me leave the Dark Lord since I regained consciousness here. Considering the Headmaster's rather... interesting" he cast a sideway glance at Harry, "treatment I can't understand," he stirred again, "why I changed sides at all."

Harry's hand trembled and the knife in it fell on the ground. He leaned down to pick it up.

"You told me you couldn't understand why you chose _Voldemort _in the first place," he said when he straightened up. Severus's face darkened with anger.

"You..."

"YOU told me everything I know about you, Severus."

A long, scrutinising glare.

"All right. So, why did I change sides?"

"Because your Death Eater parents wanted your brother to serve Voldemort. Quietus didn't want that. So, they caught him and brought him to Voldemort who tortured him to death. You had to assist in his murder, but you refused to torture him and you were tortured as well. After his death, you returned his corpse to Hogwarts and confessed Dumbledore that you were a Death Eater. You asked him to hand you over to the Ministry. He resisted, then you offered him to be his spy on Voldemort."

"Voldemort... killed my brother," Severus's eyes turned unfocused. "My parents and I were serving him and notwithstanding our service he killed my brother."

"It was your father who handed him over to be killed," Harry whispered. "And it was Voldemort who saved your life when your father wanted to kill you as well."

Leaving the cauldron behind Severus tottered to a nearby chair and collapsed on it. Harry took his place and continued the stirring. After a long silence Severus asked-

"Did I love my parents?"

"You we..." Harry stopped. '_You can't give him hints about HIS feelings in past situations. Or more: the best is if you don't speak about his past feelings to him at all._' The Head Healer's words were echoing in his mind. "I don't think I can tell you that. I'm not supposed to talk you about your past emotions. It could cause mental interference."

"Yes, she told me as well." Silence, again. "What do you know about my brother?"

Harry shrugged slightly.

"Just some things you and Dumbledore told me. He was the best student of the century, the greatest light wizard, the Headmaster wanted him to be his successor. He was a Ravenclaw, and," Harry smirked. "He was like you and me: tall, dark hair, Noblestone facial system, and he had black eyes like you."

"What's this Noblestone stuff?" Severus asked curiously. "How do you know about it?"

"You showed me photos of my grandmother, the last living Noblestone, Severus. I know that I'm related to the Malfoy family as well, because Draco Malfoy's and my grandmothers were sisters."

"What about you and Draco? Are you two friends?" Severus asked and stood up.

Harry shook his head violently.

"Oh, no!" his face showed his disgust. "He hated me from the first moment. He knows that you changed sides and he was told that my mother was a Muggle..."

"WHAT?" Snape grabbed Harry's shoulder with such a force that the boy hissed in pain. "Those people think of me that I and a Muggle... that I did it with a Muggle..." he blushed and shuddered in anger and disgust.

"You and Dumbledore cooked this tale up in order to protect me..."

"YOU!" Snape hit the table with his fist so forcefully that the potion in the cauldron almost ran out. "Always you and protecting you! Who are you? Why is it so important for you to be protected? Why is the Ministry after you?" He jiggled Harry in wrath.

Harry detached the man's fingers from his shoulder.

"Fathers are supposed to protect their sons, Severus. And it's not the Ministry that is after me but your ex Lord. However, Voldemort had his own pawns in the Ministry as well – Lucius Malfoy was one of them..."

"Wait," Severus said suddenly and loosened his grip. "I think I understand. Because of my betrayal Voldemort wanted to exterminate my family, which includes you and your mother and grandparents," he looked at Harry expectantly. Harry, on the other hand couldn't utter a word. Severus's conclusion was brilliant – but it was a lie, again.

Did he want another lie?

He massaged his abused shoulder with a painful grimace.

What could he do to avoid a new set of lies? Nothing. He had to nod. So, Harry nodded.

"And who is your mother? Where is she?" Severus asked softly.

"I can't tell you Severus. I've never seen her. She died when I was a baby."

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When the boy left, and Severus remained alone in the empty, dull room he let his usual mask fall as he dropped himself onto the bed perfectly exhausted. The boy didn't know, of course, that every meeting with him sucked Severus's life force out, he seemed so sure about the importance of his presence... And Albus, of course, agreed with the boy instead of Severus.

The Potions Master intertwined his fingers under his head and fixed his eyes to the ceiling deep in thought – as he did every time the blasted brat left. These times he tried to understand his own feelings: the tentative care and the confusion over the boy's so FAMILIAR attitude.

Because the boy's attitude was all too familiar. It reminded Severus to anybody else's behaviour he couldn't place a finger on...

Blasted amnesia!

He often felt when he let his thoughts wander as if he could reach something, something important in the next moment – and the whole thing slipped away so quickly, before he could grab it and analyse it. The boy's case was one of them. This familiarity... Well, to tell the truth Severus was pretty sure that the answer to his question was in that part of his brain, which had remained unaffected by the memory charm. He knew this boy only he didn't know where and when had they met before.

And, of course, he wasn't Severus's son.

Severus wasn't stupid. To have a child some things are always necessary. Sexual intercourse was one of them. He couldn't sire this boy, because he hadn't had sex that time. Albus didn't know everything about him, and this was a serious mistake of his: after that fateful and disgusting evening when he had received the Dark Mark after killing the Galvanys he simply couldn't have sex. Raping a woman had never been a thing he had been longing for, neither was killing, and that evening he had been forced to rape and to kill, the mere memory made him sick, and made any further sexual intercourse impossible. His guilt froze him even if he was just thinking about sleeping with someone. And this had happened in 1976.

The boy was said to be born in 1979.

So this wasn't his son. This was so simple.

Then why were he and Albus telling Severus always the contrary? Why did they want to persuade him? Why did anyone on earth want to be called his son?

Who was this boy?

What did the result of the blood test mean?

Severus began slowly, very slowly to believe that he had actually had a brother. Every sign was indicating that. His memory and emotional gaps, Dumbledore and the boy's tales, and once even Callia told him that she had met Quietus Snape here, in the hospital.

Severus somehow felt uncomfortable recalling this name. Quietus Snape. Every time he thought of the name or he heard it a sudden and sharp pain throbbed in his head: the after-effect of the memory curse.

"For some reason unknown for me, you cast such a strong charm to erase Quietus Snape from your mind that the charm is still working, which is very unnatural in the case of a spell like this. Or... something happened in casting the charm..."

Severus was afraid of the latter. The healing process had no results; not even a tiny bit of memory or feeling was back, and most probably none would be. Severus soon realised that he had to accept this fact and to learn to live with it. He had to form his own feelings about things again... But Callia was so hopeful and so were Albus and the boy – Quietus Snape.

The boy had to be his brother's son. And most luckily his brother didn't marry a Muggle, but a Muggle-born... STOP.

The prophecy. That blasted prophecy of the child of a light wizard and a Muggle-born witch.

His pureblood brother had married a Muggleborn witch, so this boy was... Albus's newest saviour after the Potter brat's death.

Apparently he was stuck protecting Albus's Golden Boys, however, in this case he was luckier than before. This boy was... well, he was a teenager and many times he acted as one, but he was much more intelligent and mature than Potter. All in all it still didn't mean that he liked or wanted this task again. The boy and Albus were lying to him. Severus had some evil forebodings about the future revelations as well.

And, to tell the truth, something deep inside frustrated him. What if...? What if the boy WAS his? It wasn't too probable, but... but... it could be.

Because...

Because there was one thing he was a little unsure about. In his memory there were a lot of gaps before the year 1980. A lot. He almost didn't have any memory from those years.

And the boy lived now with that blasted dog.

Black. Sirius Black, Anne's twin brother.

Anne.

Yes, Severus couldn't imagine having any sexual intercourse with anyone, but Anne had been always... special to him. What if the boy was really his and Anne's son?

It was the first time that Severus allowed himself this thought. The slight acceptance of the facts. He had never married Anne, he was more than sure, his memories were flawless about it, but what if Anne had forgiven him before her death and he simply had Obliviated this memory in order to protect the boy – his and Anne's son?

The thought was suddenly too painful. His heart began to race in his chest and he felt the room too narrow, too suffocating.

Had Anne really forgiven him?

Did he really have a son?

In this case the boy wasn't a saviour, just a simple boy, but...

There were those cursed 'buts'.

There were many things about last summer neither Albus nor the boy had wanted to talk to him. How did he learn that he had a son?

And why did the boy say that his mother had been a Muggle-born witch?

Severus almost physically felt the sea of lies waving around him, inundating him.

Whoever this boy was, he wasn't sincere. He and the Headmaster tried to deceive him.

He couldn't trust anybody. He was alone.

He sighed again. Every evening, after the boy left he had similar musings. And the results were always the same.

He couldn't trust anybody. He was alone.

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"... and I don't want to watch without acting as he ruins everyone I hold dear!" Sirius shouted. Harry's fist clenched more tightly.

"He doesn't ruin me!" he yelled back vividly.

"You are every time more and more upset after arriving home. Don't tell me it's not him who upsets you!"

"Yes, he is, but not..." Harry began, but he couldn't finish the sentence, because Sirius looked at him victoriously and interrupted.

"You see, he loved you just because you are a part of his family. Now, however, he isn't convinced about you, so he treats you as he treats everybody around him: with malice and bias. He's a git, Ha- Quietus."

"Fortunately it's only a short week and I won't be compelled to live in the same house as you, Sirius!" Harry almost spat the words. "Anyway, it's your fault that all these things turn out like this! If you hadn't decided to visit Dumbledore just to tell him your suspicions about Quietus Snape being a cheater..."

"I didn't go to Dumbledore to tell him stupidities like that! I went to tell him some things concerning Anne and the Muggle school she was visiting there!"

"You should have sent Remus then!" Harry shrieked. "I almost died because of Malfoy being the Headmaster! Severus has no memories because of the same!" Harry turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

"Dumbledore will be here at 8 p.m. He wants to talk to you," Sirius yelled after him evilly. Harry didn't even look back. In this moment he would have yelled at even the Headmaster without thinking about the consequences.

He slammed the door so forcefully that some pieces of plaster drizzled on his head.

IDIOTS!

The stairs were squeaking under his feet as he ran up to his room cursing under his breath. He was about to enter his room and lock the door behind him, when Hermione's soft voice stopped him.

"Quietus, I want to talk to you."

For a moment, Harry wanted to shout some biting remark about Hermione and him being in the same bed, but he managed to bit back.

"Yes?" he asked tiredly.

"It's something... important," Hermione muttered unsurely. "May I come in?" she waved her head towards Harry's room. "I don't want to discuss it out here."

"Of course. Come in," Harry rolled his eyes. Just wonderful. By the time the Headmaster arrived they would be caught staying in the same room – alone. This thought made him scrutinise Hermione thoroughly.

Well, he didn't decide whether Hermione was beautiful or not. She was simply... okay. Harry liked her, or more so, he loved her, but that was all. He wasn't in love with her. Or was he? What if he was in love with her? He forced himself to be as serious as he could. Finally, he shook his head forcefully.

"What's that, Quietus? Why did you shake your head?" Hermione asked after a while.

"I'm not in love with you," Harry answered in a tiny voice not knowing whether his words would hurt Hermione or not. The girl's eyes went wide in surprise.

"Of course," she said and smiled. "We're friends."

Harry released the breath he held back since he cast the first look at Hermione after they entered the room. He smiled back.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"No harm done," Hermione said and sat on Harry's bed. "However, there's a thing I have to tell you about Anne."

"Anne?" Harry became curious.

"Yes, her. I was playing chess with her this afternoon and we were talking about many things. She told me stories about her life with his parents and a girl in her neighbourhood..."

"Yeah, Erica, wasn't she?" Harry covered his mouth while he yawned.

"Yes, she. I think she's the girl You-Know..." for Harry's piercing glare she quickly corrected herself, "Voldemort is after."

Suddenly, Harry's tiredness disappeared.

"What? Why do you think so?"

"Well, let's see the facts. In my opinion Erica is indeed a witch. She did a lot of funny things Anne told me about, which I can't explain any other way. On the other hand she lived in the same street as Anne: Oak Crescent. And I have a proof of a kind as well. As Professor Lupin told me, Crabbe and Goyle kidnapped the family from the house. If they are at all similar to their sons, they aren't too intelligent. And, look, Anne's family lived in Oak Crescent 6, while Erica's grandparents are living in Oak Crescent 9. But the number on the wall of Anne's house many times turned upside down, because it was put on with a single nail..."

Harry paled.

"Do you... do you think that her family was exterminated just because of a wrongly turned number?" he barely managed to force the question through his tightened throat. Hermione just nodded. "So THIS was the reason that the two men were sent to America: to search for the girl, who returned there after the summer holiday."

They were sitting in shock for some moments.

"We have to tell Dumbledore," Harry suddenly stood up. "He will be here in ten minutes. We... we just can hope we aren't too late."

Dumbledore was late. He didn't arrive at 8 p.m. and he still wasn't at Black Manor at 9 p.m. Some Order members appeared for dinner, to Harry's chagrin there were ten of them: quite a large number. He knew only Fletcher and Lupin, but he had already met Dawn and Andrews once, when Dumbledore had introduced them last year as the members of the group that tried to save Severus and him from Nightmare Manor.

They were also waiting for Dumbledore. To pass the time they were playing some transfiguration games to make Anne laugh: they transformed the soup bowl into a fort, the cutlery into tin armies, the plates into various weapons and began a large war on the table. Anne was almost shrieking in laughter, Sirius retired to the couch with a bottle of wine, Lupin and Hermione were deep in conversation about a probably very weighty topic (surely something thoroughly scientific), and Harry joined Fletcher. The man was excellent in transfiguration: he was able to transfigure everything into everything without serious efforts, while the others could make only smaller and less important changes, so after an hour Harry and Fletcher were about to win the war.

"You're excellent in Transfiguration!" Harry exclaimed after a very clever move when Fletcher transfigured some portions of the tablecloth into a moat and a part of the enemy's army drowned.

"I'm a Master of Transfiguration as your father is a Master of Potions," Fletcher smirked proudly.

"Why don't you teach then?" Harry asked curiously.

"The Master degree is not only for teaching. Before this war I worked to a company that produced various kind of furniture by transfiguring waste material. I was the general controller: I had to check every piece we made to see whether the transfiguration was complete and perfect or some characteristics of the previous object remained untransfigured. This is a very hard job, and it requires not only great skills in Transfiguration, but perfect physical condition as well. I loved that work, and I planned to return after the war is finished." For a short moment, Fletcher's expression saddened. "With Arabella..." He let the sad expression be visible only for a moment and quickly went on. "Anyway, Professor McGonagall is a very good teacher and a professional of our field. I don't want her place." Harry nodded and the war went on. But before they could defeat the attackers' army, Dumbledore arrival interrupted the game.

The man seemed old and tired.

"Albus!" Fletcher cried out. "What happened?"

Dumbledore almost collapsed on a chair and cast a short glance at Black, who grabbed Anne and disappeared with her in the staircase.

"Arcus had a spy amongst Voldemort's rank. He was killed today together with his family. He didn't have wife or children, but his parents, and his sisters were killed."

"Who?" Dawn asked quietly.

"Nemus Flitwick."

A sudden gasp.

"Was he a relative of professor Flitwick?" Hermione asked.

"It was his brother's family. Nemus was his brother's son," Dumbledore nodded darkly. "I went to visit him after I learned the news. He is devastated. He doesn't have any other family. Until now he didn't want to participate in the war's events. Now, he asked me to join the Order. He wants to fight."

"Revenge is a dangerous thing, Albus," Fletcher said calmingly.

"Yes, I know that," The Headmaster nodded solemnly. "But I have been asking him to join us for so long..."

The men nodded, Harry felt dizzy.

"Is Professor Flitwick in any danger now?" he asked suddenly. "As a family member of a spy..."

Hermione cast a sympathetic look at him, but Dumbledore just sighed.

"I ordered him to move in Hogwarts even for the summer holidays. He was reluctant at first, but later I managed to convince him... It wasn't easy." Suddenly, life returned into the old man's eyes. "But I have other bad news, gentlemen. The last thing we learned from that spy is that Voldemort is planning something for this night. A very important attack on a Muggle settlement, but we don't know any further."

A short cry erupted from Hermione. Harry looked at him with surprise, but he suddenly understood.

"Erica!" they cried both in the next moment, and when all the men in the room looked at them expectantly they began to tell them about their conversation this evening.

Dumbledore didn't interrupt their tale, he was just caressing and combing his beard with his fingers and sometimes nodded in agreement.

"Everything seems correct. That third girl I mentioned to you, Quietus, when we were talking about that prophecy, was called Erica Knight..."

"Roger's daughter!" Andrews said suddenly. Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes, his. Apparently, they were living under disguise and Fidelius the last few years, so Voldemort couldn't reach them in America; I suppose it's the same disguise and charm I cast on them fifteen years ago... But they didn't consider that Erica is not safe with her grandparents..." Dumbledore jumped on his feet. "We have to go there in this very moment. Even if the attack is not against her, we have to bring her to a safe place as soon as possible. Mundungus, you will remain here..."

"Why?" asked Fletcher flatly.

"I need a trained wizard here with the children and Sirius."

Harry snorted. Children?

"I'm legally an adult!" he complained. According to the lies about his life he was seventeen. And even in the reality he was almost sixteen! In less than a week!

"Legally, but not really," Dumbledore said and the other men seemed to agree. The Headmaster stepped closer to Harry. "I can't leave you here without a professional to help. If Severus learns that I would be dead in no time."

"He doesn't like me that much, Headmaster," sadness shone in the boy's eyes. "And I don't think he ever will."

"Hope maketh not ashamed," Dumbledore answered in a quiet voice. Tears appeared in Harry's eyes.

"Father wrote that," he said fighting with those embarrassing tears, this time he meant the word 'father' in the direct biological sense. "But hope _did _make him ashamed, Headmaster." He turned around and left the room.

Sadness. Sadness clenched his chest.

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Almost right after the group's departure Harry went to bed to catch some sleep before the usual, midnight visions or nightmares, but he couldn't sleep more than an hour, because loud noise broke the house's generally calm atmosphere. Harry woke up with a start around midnight hearing the noise the returned men made. First he couldn't even sit up, because his heart was racing so hard, that he couldn't actually breathe. So, he was lying and listening to the various rackets and commotions from the first floor. Somebody was yelling, another one was explaining something aloud, doors were slammed frequently with loud booms, later a bottle was shattered into pieces when somebody dropped it (or rather launched? Harry couldn't decide).

"Poppy, Poppy, hurry!"

"I don't know where Dawn is..."

"...he will die..."

"I told you not to remain in that garden! It wasn't safe!"

"...my wand can't be repaired..."

"Damn it, bring a new sheet! This is entirely bloody!"

"Where's that painkilling potion?"

"...take care of her..."

"Albus, you can't!"

"Here, drink it!"

"...any calming potions..."

Then a sob, desperate, and typically female, Harry didn't know the owner of that voice.

"Grandpa, grandpa, don't die..."

"STAND ASIDE, imbecile!"

"He will die!"

Again a loud slamming.

"We have to take him to St Mungo's!"

"He won't survive the trip..."

And so on, without an end. But when Harry arrived to the living room, he could tell that the chaos was larger than he thought listening to it. There was blood almost everywhere, an old – and judging his clothes: Muggle – man was lying and dying on the couch with Madam Pomfrey at his side, another one, an order member lay on a stretcher with open eyes, his pupils were dilated in pain, and... there was someone laid on an empty corner, a long, dark cloak on the whole body, even over the head... Harry gulped. Someone had died. His and Hermione's tip was correct: Voldemort was about to attack Oak Crescent and there was a ferocious fight between the Death Eaters and the Order members.

From the short remarks and conversations Harry could compose a sketch of the night's happenings: the Death Eaters had already been in Oak Crescent when Dumbledore and the other nine men had arrived there. Voldemort's minions had been about to attack the house – this time the right one (according to the tales Crabbe and Goyle hadn't been present at the attack), but the loud cracks of the Apparating Order members distracted them enough that Dawn could enter the house and alert the inhabitants. He could help out the girl and the grandfather, because they had been healthy enough to flee without support and tried to save the old lady as well, when another group of Death Eaters had attacked him and from that point nobody knew anything either Dawn or the old woman. Both Erica and her grandfather had been injured: but Erica could conjure a shield so her injury wasn't grave. But the old man was dying: a curse had thrown him to a wall and his head and spine suffered serious fractures and contusions. Harry could see the despair on Madam Pomfrey's face. She knew that the old man couldn't be saved.

Finally, it was Hermione who took the slightly hysterical girl from her dying relative and escorted her towards the bedrooms. Not long after her leaving the old man stopped breathing. Harry took a sheet from a chair and brought it to the nurse, who covered the corpse with trembling hand.

"I couldn't believe I would have to do it again," she muttered quietly. Harry reached a hand and helped her to stand up. By that time the man on the stretcher had lost his consciousness.

"Will he die too?" Harry asked softly.

Madam Pomfrey shook her hand.

"No. His injures are painful, but he isn't in mortal danger. Could you bring me a cup of tea, young man?"

Harry nodded and went to the kitchen. He found Fletcher, Lupin and Dumbledore there drinking tea and deep in conversation.

"... and one third of the Order members have already died," Lupin whispered weakly, the other two nodded to his words. "Etherny, Arabella, McDougall, Dawn, the Grey sisters, Sirius is a Squib, Severus is quite useless..."

"At least the number of the Death Eaters is growing with every blasted day," Fletcher barked with dark irony. "Many of the sacked Aurors went to Voldemort directly... except the ones who are in Liberty. I told you it was not a wise idea to sack them in such a hurry."

"They were guilty of torturing people, Mundungus," Lupin coughed, and put the mug on the table.

"There will be some new members. I planned to introduce them tomorrow," Dumbledore said and suddenly, he turned to the door where Harry was staying. "Come in, Quietus. Tea?"

"Yes, but first I'll take one to Madam Pomfrey," Harry said slightly flustered, and hurriedly, he poured a mug of tea and left the kitchen.

"...the Weasley twins, Charlie came back from Transylvania to help us, Barney Bones and his wife, and Cassia again assured me of help if we need any medical assistance. She also told me that Severus is getting better, though his memories won't be back for a while, so he could join us from the 1st of August as well. His potion-making skills are untouched by that Memory Charm, he's still the professional we need..."

"That's almost twenty people," Fletcher said.

"Nineteen." Dumbledore added. "Plus Cassia."

"We have to open that large fireplace in Poppy's workroom if we want to transport injured people from Hogwarts to St Mungo's. We can't use official portkeys: there was a lot of tampering with them in the last year. I'm sure that Voldemort has a person in that department."

"The Floo system isn't safe either," Lupin opposed. "It never was."

"That fireplace and connection is not part of the Floo system, Remus," Dumbledore explained. "It's an independent line. It was Harold's idea to build it, but Quietus helped him a lot."

"Harold?" Lupin asked back.

"Harold Potter, James's father, I guess," Fletcher said and stretched himself. "And Quietus, Severus's brother. They were an incredible duo in the Order," he smiled.

"I didn't know," Lupin said. "I entered the Order only one year ago. Was James a member as well?"

"From just after his parents' death. Lily followed him one year later, after Quietus's death in December. They were good friends. His death shook Lily," Fletcher explained. Lupin nodded seriously. Of course they had been good friends! The fruit of their 'friendship' was standing expectantly in the open door.

"Can I join the Order?" Harry asked suddenly.

The three men looked at him curiously.

"Come in, my dear boy," Dumbledore smiled. "Tea, then?"

"Yes, thanks," Harry said, but he didn't let himself distracted. "Can I become a member of the Order?"

"After graduation," Fletcher said, his brows furrowed.

"Why? I want to fight now!" Harry said enthusiastically. "I'm ready to..."

"You have to finish school first, Quietus," Dumbledore said calmly. "We don't send children to war."

"I'm not a child!" Harry now was really furious. This was the second time of the day that Dumbledore called him a child. "Why do you treat me as one?"

Fletcher opened his mouth to answer his rambling, but a short wave of Dumbledore's hand stopped him.

"We know that, Quietus. But we don't want to sacrifice you..."

"You have to sacrifice me," Harry said quietly. Fletcher snorted in annoyance and Lupin lifted his eyebrows.

"Quietus, that prophecy's explanation may be false. I DO hope we don't have to sacrifice you, I DO hope there's another way to break free again..."

"The explanation was right about things in the past. I don't see why you think it isn't right about the future happenings."

"Because the future is not something steady, firm thing. It's a group of various possibilities, a lot of decisions – and you always have the possibility to make another decision, to take another way. Knowing a prophecy could warn us, could help us, but it surely don't determine our fates."

"I don't agree," Harry said hotly. "I think that if a prophecy is true, it's a real one, then you don't have the real chance to alter the future. Every try of alteration will bring you to fulfilment like in the Greek tragedies, where the actors met their fates just because they wanted to avoid it at any cost."

"Those are literature, Quietus. Life isn't literature," Dumbledore slowly shook his head.

"No, it isn't. It's worse and crueller," Harry agree and sat next to the old man and sipped a draught from his mug.

"Don't be a fatalist, Quietus. You will see that life has its own tricks. You couldn't keep it within bounds."

Harry lowered his glance to the mug.

"I miss Severus," he whispered. Dumbledore put a hand to Harry's arm, but when he flinched, the Headmaster quickly withdrew it.

"You can't be a member of the Order, but I'm sure you can help Severus with his potions," Lupin said and coughed again. "I go to find Poppy. I think I'll need a Pepper-up Potion against this cold." He stood up and left, Fletcher followed him silently.

"I don't want to lie to him any more, Headmaster. Once he figures out, I'll never have the chance to regain his trust again. Please," he added when he saw the determination on the Headmaster's face.

"After he leaves the hospital, you can tell him some things. But you can't reveal your identity."

"I know," Harry said. "But he will find out eventually. In one week."

"You've been  playing this role for a year."

"But he was a spy, the only one Voldemort didn't expose before he..."

"I know."

Silence fell on the kitchen.

"I think that that spell wasn't cast properly," Harry said. "It can't be undone."

"Cassia thinks the same."

"Just like Severus."

They sighed.

"What can we do then?" Harry finally asked.

Dumbledore looked at him with sadness and sincerity.

"I don't know, Harry. I don't know."

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Next: I try it Wednesday, really, but in the meantime I'll probably publish a cca. 10000 words long stand alone story in the weekend (or next weekend) (non-slash, post OotP, one-shot story). It depends on my beta :-) I don't want to kill her.

Its title will be: Where your mother's blood dwells


	4. An unexpected visitor

Betaed by Barbara

Sorry for the long delay. I do my best (and Barbara does hers) to give you the next chapter in time next Wednesday.

I posted a stand alone fic three days ago, a post-OotP fic, its title is: _Where your mother's blood dwells_. It's a one-shot short story, you can find it if you click on my name  :-) Go, read and tell your opinion – I'm so curious of your opinions! Please!

And an **IMPORTANT remark**:

For those people who don't remember: according to the previous year's lies 

**1. **young Quietus's mother was a Muggle, 

**2.** he was raised by Muggles and 

**3.** he was one year older than the real Harry, however, for the OWLs's sake he was attending the fifth year. Harry is now between his fifth and sixth year. When Dumbledore wants Harry to lie to Snape, Harry's following these lines of lies. In the previous chapter Harry confessed that his mother was a muggleborn only because of the blood check. He **doesn't know **what Severus is thinking about his mother's identity! In this chapter we will see that he is treated as a seventeen-year-old, though in reality he's only a sixteen-year-old. Later chapters will explain that to us, I promise.

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Chapter 4 – An unexpected visitor

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Harry woke up next morning with a horrible headache. He could barely see, his eyes wanted to pop out of his head, and he felt his head throbbing with the rhythm of his heartbeat. He went to the bathroom and took a cold shower, but it did nothing to the killing pain, and Harry explored sadly discovering that no pain-killing potion remained after the last week's nightmares. He knew precisely that he was not skilled enough in potion making to brew the concoction alone, but if he sought help from Severus, the man would ask him why Harry needed that potion, and he really didn't want to mention his nightly 'entertainments' with Voldemort and his cronies.

On the other hand he was deadly tired. The night's events, Erica's arrival, the old man's death and the conversation with Dumbledore had sucked his life force out of his body and mind, but he couldn't just give in and let things merely happen around him. Today, he had to meet the new girl, Sirius (as always) and Severus (with his mood swings), and he felt absolutely did not feel ready to face them. And, most of all, not with a headache like this.

Harry collapsed back onto his bed to catch some more relaxed minutes with closed eyes, when a tapping sound from the direction of the window startled him.

A brown, Hogwarts owl was sitting on the window's sill, a large, well-known Hogwarts letter bound to his (or her) leg. Harry struggled himself up and tottered to the window massaging the back of his neck while his eyesight blurred again.

Blasted headache!

"What did you bring, mate?" he asked the owl, who reached his leg and showed Harry the envelope. He, apparently, didn't like him so much, because as soon as Harry untied the letter, he hooted and flew out the window.

Harry somehow crossed the room again and fell back onto the bed. He dropped the envelope on the night table and pressed his fingers to his temples. In his present state, not even the OWLs seemed important. The results could wait. Harry moaned and felt helpless.

Suddenly, the door burst open.

"Quiet, Quiet! I've got 13 OWLs and my total is 93%!"

In return, Harry grabbed his pillow and pressed it to his head.

"Don't shout, Hermione! My head is going to explode!" he complained, but Hermione didn't care.

"Come on! Let's see your results!"

"I'm not curious about them! Bring me some painkiller instead," Harry groaned aloud.

"Quietus, please," Hermione begged. Harry waved dismissively.

"All right, but with one condition. Don't yell!"

She nodded (Harry, of course didn't see her nod) and opened the letter with great curiosity.

"Oh," she squeaked. Harry grunted. "You got 13 OWLs like me, but your total... is amazing!"

Harry shrugged, although he knew that his indifference wouldn't stop Hermione from telling him the results.

"98.3%!" Harry shrugged again, but the idea of telling Severus his results warmed him inwardly. The man could be proud of him.

Now, Hermione finally noticed that something was really wrong with Harry. She hurried out of the room, but she soon returned with a tiny vial.

"I think Erica will receive another one from Madam Pomfrey this afternoon. Drink it," she said tugging the pillow away from Harry's grasp. Harry drank the potion obediently, and after some minutes even his results seemed more interesting somehow. His sight stopped being blurry and he couldn't feel his head throb with every heartbeat.

"Thanks," he looked at Hermione. "It was terrible."

She grinned and pulled him up.

"Come to have some breakfast. She will be there too."

"She?" Harry asked blinking in confusion.

"Erica, you idiot."

"I see," Harry mumbled unhappily, and he didn't know whether or not to be happy about the arrival of the third girl to the house. For his greater chagrin, Sirius and other Order members were nowhere seen (Sirius had gone to learn to drive a car), next to the table were two chattering girls: the new one and Anne. Even a blind man could see that they were friends of some sort.

"Hi," Harry sneered.

"Hi, Quiet, imagine, she's Erica I told you about her, remember?" Anne jumped at Harry's neck, gave a kiss on his cheek and dragged him closer to the sitting girl. Harry blushed violently and Hermione giggled.

"Traitor," Harry muttered under his breath and forced his lips into a smile-like line. "I'm Quietus Snape. Nice to see you," he said and reached his hand towards the new girl.

She looked up at him, and for a short moment Harry had some déja vu feeling: he was sure he had seen this face before: a pair of dark brown, almost black eyes, silky black hair, light skin, heart-shaped face. Time stopped for an instant as she accepted the outstretched hand.

"Erica Knight. My pleasure," she said firmly. Was it Harry's imagination or she had really held his hand for a little longer than the usual? "Are you related to Severus Snape?" she asked suddenly.

"Yeah, sort of. Why?" Harry asked back in surprise.

"Our Potions book in school was written by a certain Severus Snape, and when I heard your name I was wondering if you are related to him or not."

"It happens that Quietus is his son," Hermione said when Harry didn't say anything. Her words called Erica's attention to her presence in the room. In fact, Erica seemed rather displeased with her at the moment. Harry frowned as he tried to figure out what the new girl's supposed problem with Hermione was.

"Oh," Erica shot a bright smile to Harry, who couldn't help but stared at her questioningly. She blinked playfully even more to Harry's chagrin and turned away. Harry gulped and looked at Hermione just to find that she was snickering under her breath. Harry's eyes went wide. Did it mean that the new girl was actually _flirting_ with him? The mere thought sickened him. First, he knew precisely that he wasn't too handsome a boy, rather the contrary instead: thin, short, but greasy-like hair, pale, almost sallowish skin, high and pinched cheekbones, big nose (not as hooked as Severus's, but his had never been broken unlike his uncle's). As he began to force some piece of toast down in his throat, he suddenly thought of Leah, and the remainder of his appetite disappeared.

Leah... How could he be such an idiot as to think that the girl had actually LIKED him? Or more: liked HIM of all people? Severus wasn't a handsome man, by any means, neither was Quietus sr., and he was so like them... He had been stupid to think that such a beautiful girl as Leah had found him even remotely handsome! It should have been so obvious from the first moment!

And now... This new girl (Harry couldn't call her Erica even in his mind) was _flirting_ with him, or something like that... It could mean only one thing: trap. Or... she just wanted to show off with him as the son of that Potions book's writer... But that last thought was a stupidity, Harry suddenly realised and despite himself he couldn't bit down a short chuckle.

Both the girls stared at him curiously. Harry rolled his eyes, shrugged and stood up.

"I think I..." but he couldn't finish.

"Oh, come on, Quietus. There's no need for such a rush!" Harry couldn't believe Hermione was apparently trying to make him stay. With that idiot-like girl, who...

Who smiled at him again. Harry's stomach churned with nausea.

"I can't, Hermione. Sorry," he said and fled.

He certainly didn't want any more 'girlfriends' or things like that. Hermione as his girl friend (not girlfriend, beware!) was enough. He could even sleep with her, if he wanted! This thought made him smile. Especially, when he thought of Sirius's enraged expression.

Well, he loved Sirius, but his behaviour was a little bit aggravating.

He couldn't help waiting for Severus to be released.

***************************************************************************

Severus actually found it a pleasant surprise that the boy showed up much earlier than he generally did, but he didn't let it be seen. Instead, he sneered (slightly, nothing threatening) and sighed with mocking annoyance.

"So, you decided to torment me with your impertinent presence even longer," he groaned and the boy, much to his surprise, grinned. Perhaps, he really knew him, the man thought to himself.

"I got my OWLs today," Harry told him and handed over a brown Hogwarts envelope. Snape raised an eyebrow and looked at the boy with a long, scrutinising glance, who shifted uneasily and pointed to the envelope. "I think you should have a look at it," muttered.

"Should I?" Severus raised the other brow. The boy curled his lips.

"It's not obligatory. I just wanted you to see it with your own eyes. If I remember correctly, you got 13 OWLs and your total was about 95%. I hope I didn't ruin the Snape reputation too much..."

Something in the boy's gestures was so familiar... Could they be Anne's movements? Severus thought and sighed.

He still didn't know what to believe.

He wanted to believe that he (Quietus – he tried to call him by his name, but even the mere thought of that name caused a sharp pain in his head), so that the boy was really his – and Anne's. Those little familiar gestures seemed to confirm his wishes... but he had deluded himself so many times in his life that he couldn't let his hidden feelings blur his mind and deeds. More guarded, Severus reached for the envelope and opened it slowly.

"Oh," it was all he could say for a moment. The boy's results were truly amazing. "I've never seen such a high total result," he added more quietly, but the boy just shrugged.

"Your brother's was even higher. He received maximum results..."

"Impossible," Severus snapped, but the brat didn't seem to care too much.

"Come on, Severus! Why would I say it if it wasn't true?"

Why, indeed? Well, the boy had mentioned the day before that Qui- er... his supposed brother had been a Ravenclaw and even Dumbledore's supposed successor.

"I hate that you seem to know more about my life than I do," he muttered darkly.

"I can help you to fill those... gaps if you want me to," Severus looked at him and suddenly noticed that the boy had bright green eyes.

Green eyes.

Anne had brown, beautiful brown eyes. He had black. Then the boy wasn't his... Severus's chest suddenly seemed too tight. But... Stop! That blasted Black had green eyes if he wasn't mistaken. Or was it Anne's father? Probably. Severus sighed with relief.

But then, why did the boy say that his mother was a Muggleborn?

"Severus?" he saw the boy's worried face. "Is something wrong?"

"You have green eyes," he said still deep in thought.

Was there a flick of fear in the boy's eyes?

"Of course," he said. "I inherited them from my mother's side."

He was Anne's son, then. The pressure around his heart eased somewhat.

"I received another envelope during the morning," Severus heard. He looked into those bright green eyes confusedly. "From the school," Severus took the other handed envelope and opened it.

Both sat in total silence for a while.

"Well, this was unexpected," Severus finally managed to say.

"Yeah," the boy said and shifted uncomfortably.

"Generally Head Boys and Girls are chosen from the seventh year."

"I know. But... I will be seventeen tomorrow," the boy smiled. "And the day after tomorrow you will be finally released."

"And you will move in with me," Severus sneered, but to his chagrin, his heart wasn't really in it.

"If you let me..."

There was longing and uncertainty in the boy's eyes. To his own surprise, Severus actually wanted the boy to live with him.

"I'm your appointed guardian, if I remember Dumbledore's words right. It means that you'll live with me. And since I don't want to move into Black's house, you have to live with me in my Manor, I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

"Black and I aren't friends."

The boy's eyes twinkled with mirth.

"What an understatement, Severus!" but he quickly schooled his expression. "But you made peace last summer, and since then you're on civil terms."

It had to be Anne's sake, Severus thought. Unfortunately, the boy looked like a Noblestone too much to see Anne's features in him... but at least it was sure that he was a Snape.

For the first time since Severus had regained his consciousness in the hospital he had a closer look at the boy. Black hair, cut short, but for some reason the boy wore it smoothed into his forehead. Green eyes, high cheekbones, big nose – but the lips weren't as thin as his. Even the whole facial structure was rounder. But he was undoubtedly a Snape.

"You're like me," Severus's words startled the boy, who, in the meantime, spotted an article in the Daily Prophet. He lifted his eyes, then he smiled.

"Last time I told you the same you said that I'm like my grandmother."

Ah! His mother. Severus could recall her face, but the feelings, which followed the mental picture, were uncertain and disturbingly hollow.

"What are you reading?" he changed topics.

"The article says that Lucius Malfoy's trial begins next week." Worry clouded the boy's eyes. "Most probably I will be compelled to participate as a witness."

Severus's mood suddenly darkened.

"You won't," he said.

"I have to. I will be of age and I was there when he killed Mrs Figg..."

"You can refuse to witness..."

"I don't want to."

The temperature of the room suddenly rose.

"You. Won't," Severus's said slowly and firmly. The boy sighed.

"I know, Severus, that he will be sentenced to life imprisonment even without my witnessing. And I know that you think you like him. NO!" he lifted his hand, when Severus tried to interrupt him. "I said 'you think', because you can't remember several things." The boy's voice was barely above a whisper now. "Last summer he was one of your tormenters. He... he..." the boy gulped, "smashed your hands. Madam Pomfrey spent several hours fixing them somehow."

Severus turned his eyes to his hands. The boy was lying... wasn't he? That was Lucius's favourite game with his victimes... But Severus surely hadn't been like a simple victim to him! They were friends! He was Draco's godfather! Lucius surely hadn't hurt him _that_ way! But as he examined his hands he remembered the strange, slightly painful feeling, which had attacked his hands every time he tried to do works requiring high accuracy and neatness in the hospital's Potions lab. Was that...? It had to be... All the injuries caused by the Death Eaters couldn't be healed perfectly, because the dark intent, which lay behind them, was like an Unforgivable curse: its effects could never be entirely removed, they were imprinted deeply into the victim's subconscious.

Severus smiled dryly. He didn't remember the events, but a part of his mind was still carrying the memories of those days.

"At least it wasn't Avery," he muttered with fake cheerfulness.

"Avery tortured Ha- Potter," the boy said suddenly in a strange, thin voice.

Severus winced.

"He was lucky to die then," he sneered.

The boy swallowed hard.

"Why?"

"Dark Magic," Severus replied without thinking. "Every similar event recalls the memory so strongly that the cuts can open again, even if he cuts his finger with a knife..."

"For how long? Surely, the memory fades with time..." the boy interjected.

Severus's lips curled up.

"Oh, no. This is a permanent dark incantation. It can't be healed or eased either." But why did the boy's face turn so pale?

"As for Malfoy," the boy suddenly went on, "he, as the Headmaster played an important part in my kidnapping. If it weren't for you and for my friends, I would have been killed in front of the whole death Eater community as an example. Slowly and painfully."

Something in Severus's chest froze at this thought. He knew precisely what the boy was talking about. But the mere thought that his SON would have been killed that way...

"What did I do?" he whispered.

"You stunned Malfoy and disguised yourself with Polyjuice. But first, you tried to contact Dumbledore, but the Order couldn't help you: not long before my kidnapping there were several attacks on Muggle families, which had a wizarding child or children. Dumbledore, as the ex-Headmaster knew them all, so he and the Order went to their help. You alerted Lupin, who went after you with some Gryffindors, but all they and you could do was to divert the Death Eaters' attention. Everything seemed hopeless, when the Ministry's Aurors arrived..."

"How did they know where to go?"

"McGonagall alerted them and told them the precise address."

"But how did she know the address?"

"Last summer, Lupin and Black explored a Dark Manor when they were looking for us. Lupin suspected it was the newest meeting point of Voldemort's forces. He was right. Before their departure he asked Hermione to go and tell McGonagall about it..."

"When they were looking for _us_?" Severus interrupted him.

For a short moment the boy stopped and furrowed his brows. Then he shrugged.

"Oh, come on! I said it wrong. They were looking for _you_, of course."

Severus eyed the boy suspiciously for a short moment, and an utterly disturbing feeling took his breath away.

"You were not there, were you?" Hopefully, Voldemort had never tortured his son.

"No," the boy said firmly. "I just said it wrong."

Slowly, Severus released the air he kept back, and even his racing heart began to calm down. "Thank God," he muttered under his breath and felt a brand new set of feelings emerging his chest: worry for his son, and as a consequence of it: a strong hatred towards Voldemort and a clear understanding of his decision to abandon the Dark Side. If he had had at least partially similar protective feelings towards his brother, it was not a miracle that that murder had changed his life once and for all.

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When Harry arrived home, he was still shaking violently. Such a stupid slip of a tongue! He almost revealed himself! But Severus... he acted so strangely. He wasn't his comfortable, usual paranoid self today. He had acted like _his_ Severus: he seemed worried and somehow determed.

What could have caused this change? Was Severus becoming familiar with the thought that Harry was his son? Harry trembled. That would be a disaster. If he once figured out Harry's true identity after months of believing him his son... Oh, no.

He should tell Severus the truth. Even if Dumbledore didn't agree. Harry could risk losing him forever.

"Hello, Quiet," Hermione smiled at him from the sofa. She was sitting there, her knees up to her chest, reading. "Is there something wrong?"

"I almost revealed my identity," Harry muttered darkly and sat next to her. "Where's your new friend?"

"Erica?" Hermione shook her head. "She's not my new friend. And she's in the study with Dumbledore and her parents. How is professor Snape?"

"Why?" Harry ignored Hermione's last question.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Think about it. Yesterday, she lost her grandparents. She was attacked. Surely, her parents want to know what happened precisely – and why."

"I guess they know about the why. They left Britain just because of it."

"Ah, I see," Hermione nodded. "And how's your father?"

"Dunno," Harry muttered. "He acted so... compassionate..." Harry opened his mouth to expound on what happened earlier, but loud yelling interrupted him.

"NO, ALBUS! I OBEYED YOU FIFTEEN YEARS AGO BUT NOW I WANT TO FIGHT! DON'T MAKE ME RETURN HOME AFTER HE SLAUGHTERED MY PARENTS!"

Hermione and Harry exchanged stunned looks. After a short silence-

"HOGWARTS WAS SAFE ENOUGH TO PROTECT EVEN HARRY POTTER!"

Silence again.

"NO!"

Silence.

"HE WAS KILLED DURING SUMMER! WE WILL REMAIN HERE! WE ARE ADULTS! YOU CAN'T ORDER US TO COME OR GO WHENEVER YOU WANT! I WANT TO MAKE MY OWN DECISION!"

Hermione cracked an amused smile. Harry muttered-

"I agree..."

Some minutes later a very excited Erica was sent out of the study. She was so out of herself that she didn't even try to flirt with Harry. She collapsed into a chair with a dramatic movement.

"We'll remain in Britain," she said.

"Yeah," Hermione nodded. "We heard that."

"Dad was a little nervous," Erica explained quickly. Apparently, she felt better, because she crossed her legs and bobbed her head back leaving her hair to fell over her face. It had to be an attractive sight, Harry thought to himself, but it was all he could do restrain the suffocating laugh.

Surely, why did a... well, a beautiful girl want to attract such an ugly git as him? Not to mention the fact that the way Erica was behaving pushed Harry away rather than the other way.

So, Harry was immensely relieved when finally, Erica's parents came out and left the manor with their daughter. He even grabbed the offered possibility and attacked Dumbledore.

"Sir, Severus will be released the day after tomorrow. I won't lie to him any more. Today, I almost slipped..."

"Quietus, you must do it."

"I can't see why. Even if he doesn't like Harry Potter, I think he's a good enough actor to play his role properly. Now, I don't live with him in Hogwarts: I live in the Gryffindor Tower, I'm not an incompetent twerp in Potions any more. I think I can gain his respect as me, myself. And I'm still his nephew."

"No, Quietus. We can't risk the equilibrium..."

"IT'S NOT A RISK!" Harry yelled, but calmed himself down with force. "Everybody knows that he Obliviated himself. It can be a good explanation of his changed behaviour towards me..."

"Harry, listen to me," the Headmaster's face was utmost serious. "Severus's hatred towards Harry Potter, for some inexplicable reason, was extremely strong. In reality, if you two weren't relatives, I don't think he would have accepted you..."

"He accepted me long before we learned about our relationship!"

"Yes, in a totally extreme situation, Harry. But now, we don't have the chance to create even a similar situation to that."

"We could explain to him..."

"He is too emotional and driven by his prejudices to accept a fact like that."

"He is not!"

"Harry!" Dumbledore cried out impatiently. "Think about it a little! He hated you because of your parents. He was so biased against you that nothing you did could convince him that he was wrong! I tried to talk to him many times about you. He didn't listen. He refused to have even a short chat with you. He singled you out when you were eleven. And yes, he protected you, because your mother was cunning enough to have him swear in his brother's name..."

"Are you telling me that he is not a good man?" Harry growled.

"No. I'm telling you that he is not a rational man. You can't explain things to him. You can't enlighten him. Well, if he loves you, you can, but otherwise you have to use emotional arguments and pressure to have him do something."

Harry almost opened his mouth to protest, but the truth behind Dumbledore's words hushed him into a dumb stupor. Hell, he really knew all this about Severus! The man was so like Sirius – it wasn't a miracle the two men hated each other with such a ferocity...

But...

Yes, there were too many buts.

"He will figure out, Headmaster," Harry said finally. "He will figure out eventually and it will make our relationship spoilt beyond repair. He is perhaps not a rational man if it comes to his relations with others, but it doesn't mean he is an idiot. He will put all the things together, and he will figure out in the worst moment, you'll see..." Harry's voice faded, and for a short moment Dumbledore appeared to agree with him.

"You have to be very careful then, Harry," the Headmaster told him finally. "It's a war and I want you under Severus's care. He is a powerful and trained wizard, if it weren't for him, you'd be dead now."

"I know," Harry rasped. "But..."

"No, Mr Snape," the sudden formality in Dumbledore's voice showed Harry that there were no more places for arguments. "You will behave as his son. No more arguments. I have to go." He stood up. Harry followed him. "Be cautious. Everything will be all right."

Only when Dumbledore disappeared in the flames Harry muttered darkly-

"I don't agree."

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That night, Harry and Hermione were sitting again in the living room dreamless. Hermione was staring into the flames blankly, watching their dance in the fireplace, Harry was reading '_The Dark Wars in the 20th century_' with mild interest. From time to time he read some paragraph about the most interesting events, keeping in mind that in less than an hour he would be sixteen. It was a peaceful night, and Harry was sure it would be the best birthday ever (the only exception was perhaps the night he had first met Hagrid in that hut with the Dursleys). Sometimes he checked the clock on the wall, just to be sure he didn't miss the moment and when he realised that Hermione caught his repeated glances he smiled apologising.

Hermione shrugged.

In the next moment the fireplace almost exploded. Colourful sparks filled the room and ash breezed from everywhere as somebody spiralled out of the flames and fell onto the rug in front of the sofa. Hermione squeaked, Harry jumped to his feet and pulled out his wand pointing to the late visitor.

The visitor, however, didn't show any sign that he wanted to attack. In reality, he didn't even move.

Harry lowered the wand (by that time Hermione's own wand was in her hand too), and stepped to the still body. When he leaned closer, he almost fainted.

"It's Ares," he rolled his friend to his back. "He's unconscious."

"That was bloody obvious," Hermione muttered catching Harry off guard. Hermione swearing? The girl shrugged and put her wand back on the coffee table.

"Hermione, who is the person on duty today?" Harry asked while he was checking the injuries on Ares's face and neck.

"Fletcher, as almost always," Hermione sighed and rushed towards the door. "I'll fetch him."

Harry just nodded, his attention was back on Ares. He appeared to be in very bad shape. Harry couldn't see too many bruises on him, but the after-effects of various curses were still lingering over Ares's body, and Harry could recognise them from the different muscle reactions they had caused. Mostly Tormenta, but not the educational kind, he noted sadly.

The unconscious boy shivered and Harry covered him with Hermione's still warm blanket, while they were waiting for Fletcher to arrive. They didn't have to wait too long.

"Is he alive?" was Fletcher's first question as he entered the room. He quickly put out the fire in the fireplace.

"Yes. He was cursed, but he will be fine tomorrow. His cursers didn't use any Unforgivables."

"We'll see," Fletcher knelt down next to Ares and scanned him thoroughly with his wand. "No Unforgivables, not even the Imperius. Thank Merlin."

"He was hit several times with the Whipping Curse," Harry sighed as his eyes followed Fletcher's hands.

"How do you know that?" Fletcher asked and pulled off the T-shirt from Ares.

"Skin reaction. He wasn't whipped really, because the skin isn't torn, but these bruises all over him," Harry tracked some of them, "show us what happened. Some of them are at least one week old," he added sadly.

"He doesn't need professional help, but I have to alert the Headmaster. I don't know how he got here..." Fletcher stood up.

"I told him to come in case of emergency," Harry said.

Fletcher's face darkened with anger.

"Dumbledore won't be happy," he said. "And neither am I. It was highly irresponsible of you."

"What should I tell him?" Harry snapped. "His parents are Death Eaters. His mother wanted him to become one of them as well. Should I agree with her? Ares even suggested to me his being marked and spying for the order, It was me who convinced him not to choose that way." He looked into Fletcher's eyes seriously. "I think that the Order should pay closer attention to these Slytherin children. You aren't prepared to handle their problem. I know that it was a foolish thing to offer him a refuge here, but I couldn't think of anything else. Here, he is protected..."

"But his mother and You-Know-Who's pawns in the Ministry can trace him easily. The Floo system is not safe."

"But we can't Apparate. Portkeys are rare and you can use them once, and you also need the Ministry's permission to do that. And as I saw from his condition, it was really a case of emergency."

Fletcher finally gave up the arguing and went to alert the Headmaster. Hermione and Harry levitated Ares to Harry's room and laid him on Harry's bed.

Dumbledore found them there. He didn't seem happy. In fact, the Headmaster was deadly tired, his face was lined with deep tiredness and annoyance.

"Next time you want to offer anything like this, Quietus, please, tell us in advance," he said after he checked Ares.

"I just wanted to help him."

"You endangered others with your irresponsibility!"

"We are under Fidelius. Nobody can find us even if they are dancing over the house!" Harry snapped.

"They can't find us, but they can find the Headqu..."

"I hope not, Headmaster," a weak voice interrupted Dumbledore. "I didn't come here directly." Ares tried to sit up, Hermione hurried to him to help. When he was finally seated comfortable, he went on. "I went first to the Leaky Cauldron. There I waited twenty minutes and went to the St Mungo's. I came here from the hospital."

"Who did this to you?" Harry asked, pointing to the fading bruises. Ares blushed.

"My uncle. I stunned him and fled," he muttered dryly. Then he lifted his face and looked at the Headmaster. "I didn't want to join You-Know-Who. My mother wanted me to abandon the school, because I had enough OWLs to find my proper place in the Dark Lord's circle... I resisted. Then, she invited father's brother to convince me," Ares turned his glance to the bed. "He- he was very aggressive. He came in every third day, and he hurt me. Today, he wanted me to take to... to You-Know-Who directly. I think I would be killed, because of my resistance." He took a long breath. "I'm sorry, Headmaster to cause such a problem. I didn't know..."

"You don't have to apologise, young man," Dumbledore sighed and his glance found Harry again. "Mr Snape, on the other hand should have contacted me before making such a dangerous decision, which involved many other people..."

"What should I do then?" Harry couldn't help but snap again. "He needed help and protection. Just because he isn't..." he stopped for an instance, "he is not Quietus Snape, he is worthy to be protected..."

"Enough!" Dumbledore now was genuinely angry. "I didn't tell you not to help your friends. My problem is that you didn't ask any adult before making a decision..."

"I HATE that everybody can make decisions except for me!" Harry yelled back. "Or make decisions about me!"

Ares and Hermione looked frozen at the two wizards. They were standing facing each other, and although neither of them had a wand in hand or made any movement to attack, the hostility was tangible in the air. Both men radiated immense power as their wills were wrestling invisibly but so forcefully that the whole room seemed to shake.

"Young man, behave yourself!" Dumbledore said in a normal tone.

"I'm not my father, sir," Harry growled through his clenched teeth. "I will do what fate wants me to fulfil, but until that," he narrowed his eyes, and the glasses shattered in the windows "I want to live my life. MY life."

"There are too many lives on risk, Quietus. You have to take into account the lives you can endanger before you make any decision."

"And who will take my life into account? I always have to respect and consider others. But who will respect ME?"

"_I _respect you, _Severus _respects you..."

"He doesn't!" Harry yelled again. "I can never regain his respect and love before I die!"

"Sacrifice doesn't mean dying, Quietus."

Suddenly, the tension broke, and Harry's shoulder slumped.

"Don't lie to me, sir. I can't stand any more lies," with that, he wheeled around and left the room closing the door softly after him.

Neither Hermione nor Ares dares look at the Headmaster. The whole situation was too awkward. They didn't know how to react, what to say. For a few moments, none of them moved. Finally, it was the Headmaster who took the first movement breaking the tableau. Hermione sighed. Ares slipped back to a lying position.

But the uncomfortable situation didn't want to end. The next moment the door banged open and Sirius stood there holding Harry's shoulders forcefully.

"Apologise! NOW!" he barked.

Harry pressed his lips stubbornly and refused to open his mouth.

"Sirius! Let him go," Dumbledore said calmly.

"But..."

"Let him go," the Headmaster repeated, "and go and fetch Veritaserum from the study."

Black reluctantly obeyed, but before leaving he cast a last, reprimanding look at Harry.

"I trust Ares," Harry said suddenly and massaged his abused shoulder. "You don't need to check him."

"You trusted Leah as well, Quiet," Hermione said quietly.

"And I don't mind," Ares said. "I want to be checked."

Harry ran his glance over the people in the room and shrugged.

"All right," he said rigidly and left the room.

After a moment of hesitation Hermione followed him. She caught him in the kitchen.

"Harry, what do you think you're doing?"

"Don't use that name!" Harry hissed at her. "And it's none of your business!"

Hermione blinked with confusion.

"But... you always were so quiet before..."

Harry released a mirthless laughter.

"I'm beginning to hate that everybody has more control over my life than I have," he said simply. "And I'm not a child any more. I want to make my own decisions even if they are all wrong and stupid."

Hermione stepped to him and put a hand on his arm.

"In this case, Dumbledore was right. You should have told somebody..."

"I know!" Harry cried and shrugged the girl's hand off his arm. "But too many other things happened, and I forgot that totally."

Hermione released a relieved sigh.

"Does it mean that you will apologise to the Headmaster?" she asked hopefully.

"No," Harry barked. "I'm fed up with him and his manipu..."

"Quietus!"

"Leave me alone!" Harry hit the table with his fist. "I will do everything he wants from me, but don't expect me to apologise!" he crumpled onto a chair, put his elbows on the table and covered his face into his palms. "I hate that I always have to be strong, that I always have to consider the others, that I'm always denied the chance to live my life..."

Hermione sat next to him.

"Don't think you are alone in this," she began. "We all have to consider the others living around us. We all have our difficulties, we all have to suffer the things life imposes on us," she suddenly stood up. "And Dumbledore, as the Headmaster and the leader of the Order has many more responsibilities than you or I have. He can't let himself concentrate on one thing or one life. He perhaps seems cruel to you, but he has to consider more things than you can imagine with every decision he makes. You were so considerate before. But now, you are like a whining little child who cannot see through the boundaries of his own life."

Harry could hear her leaving and he remained alone in the kitchen.

"Happy birthday to me," he muttered and closed his eyes.

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SORRY! I REALLY try to give you these blasted chapters earlier, but my dear Barbara has some rough time in her work, and she can't hurry as much as we'd like.

Next: we try to give you on Wednesday.


	5. New set of lies

Betaed by Barbara

Disclaimer: see 1st chapter

Thank you for your reviews. I hope you'll like this chapter even more.

Important: the title is important. :-)

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Chapter 5 – New set of lies

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"Black."

"Snape."

The two men were staring each other with mixed emotions: anger, annoyance, confusion and silent acceptance all clearly present.

Harry could understand Sirius's behaviour, but Severus's way of acting was a mystery to him. Surely, Severus hated Sirius, and he had been freaked out when he had learned that Harry had been living with him... He had even called Sirius names – and now, he was reaching his hand for out a handshake, reluctantly, but politely, or even more: civilly.

Apparently, Harry wasn't the one thoroughly surprised in the room: Sirius was gaping at Snape idiotically and so lost that he could barely grab the offered hand. Snape, of course, noticed Sirius's unusual silence.

"What's the problem, Bl- Sirius?" he asked and tried to smile, but it was more a snarl than a genuine smile. His attempt to be friendly shocked Black even more. The Animagus cast a scared glance at Harry, who shrugged slightly to show him he was just as confused in the situation as Sirius was.

Severus followed Black's eyes to Harry and the boy cracked a quick smile at his uncle, which, in return, confused Severus, although Harry was sure that only he could recognise the man's feelings in the room. Notwithstanding the fact that Severus had Obliviated himself, in many ways, he was the same as before.

Harry cleared his throat, Black shifted uncomfortably and took a step backward, Severus erased the forced snarl-smirk from his face. Suddenly, Black realised that he had been asked a question.

"No- nothing, Sna... Severus," he stuttered. "Just you... you..."

Harry felt sorry for his godfather. Severus, most surely, would insult him about his eloquence. But to their immense surprise, Severus remained polite. It was a forced politeness, it was clearly visible, but it was a politeness nevertheless.

"Yes, Black?" the Potions Master's lines struggled to express some interest.

This time both Harry and Black were scared. Harry didn't know what Sirius was thinking about Severus's behaviour, but he was sure that the Healers had overstuffed Severus with calming or mood lifting potions, or perhaps the last treatment had caused a mild merntal problem... Severus had NEVER tried to be more than strictly polite to Black, even before his Obliviation.

Severus caught the two's exchanged, worrying looks.

"What's that?" he barked in confusion at Harry.

The boy shook his head vigorously.

"Just... your behaviour. You and Sirius aren't on... friendly terms. You never were."

Harry's blatant statement hushed Severus for some long minutes. Sirius didn't dare to utter a word: he didn't want to enrage the probably mentally damaged ex dark wizard, whose wand was tucked safely into his belt – and in his present state, Sirius wasn't more than a Squib.

"Indeed," Snape said finally, but neither Harry nor Sirius could see his point.

"It's a bit... appalling, you know," Harry half-whispered. "Before your Obliviation you... let me put this way: didn't like him."

Severus smirked.

"I still don't like him."

"Oh," Harry felt an utter fool. "Then why are you so... so..."

"I am trying to respect your relationship," Severus answered simply, and both Harry and Black couldn't catch their breath. Black paled violently, and felt more vulnerable than ever, as his hand reached for his missing wand, Harry, on the other hand, almost fainted.

Severus knew! But how? How on Earth?

"You don't have to be so frightened, Black. I won't attack you, I promise. The boy," he nodded towards Harry's direction, "told me that the Ministry had you deprived of your magic. I'm sorry."

Black shuddered but managed to open his mouth somehow.

"Why don't you call Quietus by his name?"

The question caught Severus a little off guard, but he answered it abruptly.

"I cast the memory spell with such a force that I'm still unable even to think of the name, not to mention say it aloud. However, I will try to get used to calling him properly by his name. I will have a whole month. Can we leave, then?" he turned suddenly to Harry. "I don't want to spend here more time than necessary, and I guess your," he looked at Black uncertainly, "er... Bl- Sirius feels the same way."

Black nodded tensely and eyed Harry worriedly.

"So... are you sure you want to go with your... Sn- Severus?" he asked and gulped.

Harry knew that it was Severus who caused Sirius's uncertainty, but unlike Sirius, he thought he began to understand Severus's inexplicable attitude. It must have been Anne, Sirius's sister... For some unknown reason Severus thought he was Anne's son – and that Black was Harry's uncle, and Severus's brother-in-law. Fortunately, Sirius was too slow to catch it, because... Harry simply couldn't imagine what would happen if Sirius somehow learned Severus's strange idea.

But all in all strengthened Harry's decision to tell Severus part of the truth. At least that part, which dealt with the identity of his biological father. Harry had decided this after his quarrel with Dumbledore, deliberately ignoring the old man's orders, and now, as he could see Severus struggling to accept people just because of a wrong assumption, just because he believed Harry to be his long-dead lover's son, his decision grew even stronger. He couldn't leave Severus in this delicate situation. Hell, it would be really good if his uncle and godfather could accept each other finally, but Harry didn't want this reconciliation to be based on lies.

How could Dumbledore believe that the end justified the means? They were on the Light Side, why did they have to use dark utensils to achieve their aim?

Harry had been lied to too many times in his life. And he had had to lie for too long.

He was absolutely sure that Severus would understand him, and that the man would be grateful and they would be able to build a good and working relationship by the beginning of the term in September.

"Yes," he answered Black's question. "I hope you, Anne, Ares and Hermione will be fine without me," he sighed quietly.

"We will deal with Mr Nott later," Severus said in a firm voice. "I've already discussed his case with the Headmaster. I think he can move in with us in a few days."

"Slytherins..." Black muttered under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Snape asked coolly.

Black waved dismissively and after giving a quick hug to Harry he left the room.

"What's the matter with him?" Snape sighed.

"Let's go home," Harry gestured towards the fireplace. "I don't want to remain here any more.

Severus looked at him questioningly.

"We had some rows," Harry breathed. "He thinks my behaviour wasn't too appropriate... I didn't show proper respect towards the Headmaster and he... oh, it's nothing important. I don't want to continue. Not here at least."

Some minutes later they were standing in the living room of Severus's house dusting themselves off.

"I hate Floo," Harry moaned, his head was still spinning.

"We couldn't Apparate. The Headmaster said you haven't learned yet."

"No. I had other things to take care of."

Severus nodded and with a quick flick of his wand moved the trunks to the staircase.

"You mentioned you lived here last summer. Where were your rooms?"

Ouch. Unexpected situation. What was he supposed to answer? If he told the truth that they had been staying together in the same room, Severus would ask for the reason. And he couldn't lie: all his belongings were in their room, with his bed and wardrobe. What could Harry answer--- Wait. He had an idea.

"I stayed with you in the same room. Your manor was the Headquarters for the order until Black managed to get himself caught in Dumbledore's office and..." but he couldn't finish. Severus whirled around to face him, his robes billowing in their usual manner.

"You stayed with me? In the same room?"

To Harry's startlement there wasn't any malice in Severus's voice, only surprise. When he nodded in return, Severus simply left him in such a hurry that Harry remained behind rooted to the spot. When he returned some moments later, Harry was still standing in the same place.

"Now I see you are really my son," Snape said seriously and sat on the stair face-to-face to Harry.

"Why," Harry muttered. He suddenly didn't have any power to ask a question. Just to mutter a syllabe.

"I've never let anybody live – and more importantly: sleep – in the same room with me since I left Hogwarts as a student. During my service of Voldemort I became too paranoid to share rooms with anybody else, so I suppose..." but Harry, gaining all his willpower interrupted him.

"No, Severus," he said tiredly and tottered to the wall. "You are not my father." All the colour drained from Severus's face. "However, the whole last year you pretended to be."

Slowly, he slipped into a sitting position, hugging himself tightly and bracing himself for Severus's incoming wrath. It never came. Just a quiet, confused question.

"Why?" The same Harry muttered some minutes before.

"I'm your brother's son, Severus. Quietus's son. Your nephew." He lifted his eyes and stared unblinkingly into Severus's eyes. Confusion clouded his eyes.

"You lied to me."

"Dumbledore forced me to lie."

The silence was so piercing that almost exploded Harry's ears as the blood was pounding in his veins.

"I see."

"I asked him many times to stop."

"And?"

"He directly forbid me telling you the truth."

It was a strange picture: the two of them, sitting in the not too clean staircase, in the semi-darkness of the place changing short sentences.

"Why?"

"He was afraid of your rejection. That you would reject me and I would remain helpless in the wizarding world."

"Why did he think I would reject you?"

"Because you don't remember Qui- your brother. You don't remember your love for your brother. He was afraid you're too paranoid to let me in."

"I see."

Silence.

"Why did you tell me, then? You could continue your lies. I had almost convinced myself that you're my son."

Harry shook his head and felt as tears were prickling his eyelashes.

"I didn't want you to love me just because of a lie. I wanted your... previous affection. You loved me for myself..." he closed his eyes and added, "and I didn't want you to live a lie. You would figure out sooner or later. And you would never forgive me afterwards..."

"Indeed," Severus said, but his tone wasn't as cold as Harry imagined to would become after his confession.

"And I didn't want you... to believe me Anne's son."

Severus tossed up his head.

"How do you know about her?" he asked in a hostile manner.

"You told me about her."

"I. Told. You. Don't be ridiculous, boy."

Harry shook his head desperately.

"No, you told me that you loved her. That she was Sirius's twin sister and Voldemort killed her alongside with Sirius's whole family. But by that time she had left you when she learned about you being a Death Eater."

Severus's eyes went unfocused.

"Yeah," he muttered absentmindedly.

"My mum was a Muggleborn witch. I've never known her. She died when I was a baby. I was raised up by her Muggle family. Last year, after your cover was exposed and you were not a spy any more, Dumbledore told you about me and asked you to take me under your protection and to introduce me into the wizarding world. You agreed to pretend to be my father and claimed guardianship. I'm now officially your son, and as you see, even the strictest blood tests can confirm it. I think it's because you two were almost as similar as twins. Or," he shrugged slightly. "I don't know."

Snape leaned back a bit and put his elbows on the next stair.

"So we are related."

"Yes," Harry said with a pang of fear. The man apparently caught it in his tone, because he hastily said-

"You don't have to worry. Just because I don't remember the details of our relationship I won't toss you out."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled.

"At least I know I'm not totally an idiot," Severus offered a tentative smile.

"Why?"

"I always felt so stupid when I struggled to put together my past's pieces – and I simply couldn't find you anywhere. Nothing. Nowhere. Finally, I assumed I had more gaps than I could touch."

"I'm sorry to cheat you for so long."

This time, Harry's voice was firm and clearly audible. Severus looked at him calmly.

"Apology accepted. Who was your mother, by the way?"

Harry shut his eyes tightly and told as steadily as he could, forcing his tone to carry sincerity-

"I don't know her. My relatives always refused to talk to me about her. She and your brother weren't married. So, practically, I was – and still am – a bastard. An unwanted child. They treated me as one as well. I hated living with them. You were the first to accept me as I am, for who I am..." his voice faded. Severus cleared his throat in embarrassment.

"Well," he stood up, "I think we could cook a light lunch if you're interested."

"Yes, I am," Harry said eagerly and followed him. "But first, I want to organise our... oops, I don't know where to live now. We are the only two here now, and we have plenty of free rooms."

Severus nodded at him reassuringly and ushered him to the second floor.

"Let's choose a suitable room for you, then."

"Thank you."

***************************************************************************

The next days passed in a comfortable silence as they began to learn again how to live together. Harry soon offered his help in the Potions laboratory and Severus, already knowing the boy's skills, let him help. They passed the evening reading or playing chess in the sitting room, but the night they spent in different bedrooms, and Harry cast strong Silencing Charms around his own room to prevent any unfortunate revelation on Severus's part about his nightmares and visions, and prayed to every god not to have visions about Avery and his razor.

Severus's treatment of him was surprisingly warmer than Harry previously thought. However, he still seemed hurt about those lies Harry and Dumbledore had given him in the hospital. Harry felt ashamed every time he thought about the things he was still hiding from him.

Harry's sincerity apparently touched Severus, but made him more cautious as well. Harry caught the man many times examining him with a thoughtful expression on his face, and felt the scrutinising look following his every movement. Wonderful. He was compelled to live together with a spy pretending that he was not him, but somebody else. He sometimes played with the idea of telling Severus the whole truth, but some short remarks about Harry Potter during their conversation convinced him that Severus hated the already dead Potter with an incredible ferocity. When Harry, summoning his bravery, asked him finally about this strong hatred, Severus's open answer stopped every revealing wish in Harry.

"Look, boy, Potter was a stupid, cheeky, obnoxious brat. Probably, I shouldn't hate him so much, because he is already dead, but I can't help this feeling, it comes from my experiences with him and from those memory gaps, which are perhaps somehow connected with his father, the perfect, disgusting James Potter and his companion, that Black git – who isn't your relative, thank Merlin... And Potter never did anything to convince me that he was worthy to be accepted. He was always allowed anything he wanted, even the Headmaster gave his consent to his stupid games, and it was his fault my role as a spy blew up... And look, he is dead for nothing, and all those people who believed in him, are powerless and scared. Idiot, he had always been an idiot, a spoiled idiot at that."

Harry had had some hard moments restraining himself from hitting Severus or yelling at him, while he had been listening this stupid speech, but in the end he had succeeded in suffering through it in silence, powdering some dried boomslang skin with enormous force.

Since then, he did his best not to let slip any suspicious thing: he tried hard not to talk too much and to avoid every problematic topic. But there was one thing he could do nothing about: his visions almost every night and his deadly tiredness afterwards.

In the first few days he had used Dreamless Sleep Potion, but he had to stop if he didn't want to poison himself, and soon his stay with Severus began to turn into a silent nightmare: nights without sleeping and days always under a scrutinising gaze.

Harry didn't know what to do. He was on the edge. He wanted to get out, to stop and just sleep or take a nap somewhere he wasn't watched.

But then something happened that solved his problem, although much more differently he'd ever wanted.

It was a silent Friday afternoon, when Dumbledore summoned the Order to introduce the new members. The Headmaster wanted the Potions Master to participate and Harry was happy because it meant that Severus wouldn't be at home at least for five hours. So, as soon as the man left Harry went to bed and fell asleep – just to wake up screaming three hours later.

Voldemort had attacked Black Manor.

***************************************************************************

By the time Harry arrived in the living room, Anne, Sirius, Hermione, Ares and Fletcher had already arrived there. Anne was crying, Ares was shaking, Hermione stood at the window with a pale face, and Sirius was quarrelling with Fletcher in hushed voices. None of the adults noticed Harry, but Hermione, who spotted Harry's image in the window, hurried to him and hugged him tightly.

"You-Know-Who attacked Black Manor," she whispered into Harry's ears.

"I know. Fred has died," Harry said in a hollow voice.

"Vision," Hermione asked. Harry just nodded. "Sirius had an emergency Portkey. His and Fletcher's speed saved us."

"You were under Fidelius, except for Ares. You were safe there," Harry stepped back a little to break free from Hermione's grasp.

"Sorry," the girl mumbled and let him go. "I was so scared..."

"It was my fault," Harry mumbled and staggered back. "My bloody fault..."

"No," Hermione shook her head. "We had more than a week to move. The Order should have moved away by now."

"I..." Harry couldn't finish. Sirius, who in the meantime finished his conversation with Fletcher, caught Harry standing in the door.

"YOU!" he bellowed. Everybody looked at Harry, and silence fell on the room. In five steps, Sirius stood next to Harry. "YOU!" he repeated and lifted his hand.

"No!" Hermione cried.

"Stop, Sirius!" Fletcher shouted in the same time.

But it was already too late. Two fast and strong slaps hit Harry on his face, one straight and one backhanded, and he tottered to the wall from the blow. The next moment his wand was in his hand, and-

"Expelliarmus!" he cried summoning three wands at once: Ares's, Hermione's and Fletcher's. "Sirius is right. It was my fault. Fred has died and..."

"BUT ARES IS LIVING, YOU IDIOT!" Hermione yelled impatiently and stepped between Black and Harry, glaring at the man with disgust. "Never touch him again! It wasn't his fault! The Order had more than a week to move on!"

"They knew about us just because of his stupidity," Sirius hissed.

"Perhaps he made a mistake, but he was protecting his friend!" Hermione didn't move.

Harry, regaining his composure, touched Hermione's shoulder softly.

"Please, Hermione..." he couldn't continue. Suddenly, the entrance banged open and witches and wizards flooded into the room, levitating unconscious bodies or holding hurt limbs.

"What happened?" Fletcher asked the first wizard entering.

"Dumbledore broke the Order's Fidelius in order to protect the new members who weren't under the charm yet. We fought. At the end, they fled. We lost three people. Dumbledore and Snape remained there to await the Ministry," the man coughed tiredly. "Snape told us that he had various medicines in his lab. He said his son would be at our disposal..."

Fletcher nodded and tried to find Harry in the sudden tumult. He couldn't see him anywhere. Black had disappeared too. Fletcher swore heatedly, and promised to himself to catch the ex-Animagus and teach him a lesson about personal conflict in dangerous situa... But the boy's arrival interrupted his angry thoughts: he was carrying several bottles followed by a very furious Black, vials in hand, frown on face.

Black put the potions onto a table and left the room for some sheets. Harry gave Fletcher back his wand, and he transfigured some logs into chairs and beds. The chaos was fading.

Harry was dreading the moment Dumbledore would arrive. With Severus. The thought sent painful waves to his stomach. He knew that it was his fault. He behaved irresponsibly and childishly. Fred had died because of his stupidity. Fred... the pictures as he had seen his friend die in his vision were repeating over and over in his mind. He crouched next to the wall weeping silently.

A sharp yelling snapped him out of his grief. It was Sirius and Hermione and... Dumbledore. Harry's blood froze. He had no place to hide from the man's rightful wrath. He couldn't breathe as he thought of his unjust yelling and whining of the week before. Hermione had been right. Dumbledore had been right. He practically killed Fred and those two other people that wizard mentioned...

"... we can't blame him, Sirius," he suddenly heard the Headmaster's voice. "We should have moved out of your manor immediately. But I was lulled by the knowledge that we were protected strongly by the Fidelius charm. I should have thought of the new Order members and Ares. I should have summoned the secret keeper and modified the charm. But there were other things to worry about and I forgot. It was my fault rather than Ha- his."

Harry looked at the Headmaster wide-eyed. Dumbledore had almost revealed him! To his relief the others didn't seem to notice the slip of tongue, but Harry's heart was racing madly and felt sweat covering his whole body in an instant.

"I told Sirius the same," Hermione said. "But he... he hit Ha- him."

This time, however, Snape lifted his eyes, which had been pointed to the floor and looked at the other three questioningly. Sirius paled, but fortunately the situation was on their side.

"I... I just was angry. I told him that..." he mumbled, pretending to be scared about the slaps.

"Quietus, come here," the Headmaster said in a serious tone.

Harry forced himself into a standing position and tottered to the little group. He felt the traces of the slaps burning on his face and the salty taste of the tears lingered still in his mouth. The Headmaster touched his shoulder and ushered the little group into the study. When the door closed after them, Harry lowered his head in front of Dumbledore.

"It was my fault, Headmaster."

"No," he heard the familiar, elderly voice. "No, Quietus. It was not."

A wrinkled, old hand touched his shoulder and Harry couldn't be strong any longer. He fell forward babbling through the sobs, which shook his body.

"I should have known. You told me. Hermione told me. Fred saved me last year. I killed him. I kill everybody around me. I have no strength. I saw him ordering his servants and I should have known what it meant..." he cried into the fold of Dumbledore's robes.

"Severus," the Headmaster looked at the Potions Master. "Please, go and fetch a Calming Draught. Now."

Severus, who was shifting uncomfortably next to Hermione cast a last, examining look at his crying nephew and left towards the lab.

"You have to compose yourself, Quietus," the old man told him quietly. "You are not responsible for what happened. And Severus will be back soon and you mustn't babble like this, because he will learn..."

"Headmaster, I think his problem is that he can't sleep through the night. He has visions every night for weeks," Hermione said suddenly. "He is exhausted. Professor Snape will learn it sooner or later. Quietus was right. He should tell him the truth."

"No," Dumbledore said firmly.

"I've already told him I'm his nephew," Harry whispered weakly. "But, Hermione, I don't dare to tell him the truth about my true identity. I don't want to lose him."

"Who are you talking about?" a suspicious voice interrupted them. For a moment, they stood frozen, Dumbledore was the first to regain his composure.

"You, of course," he said matter-of-factly. "Your young _nephew_" he put an accent to the last word "is afraid of losing you."

"Why." Severus's voice sounded neutral.

"He blames himself for the things happened today. He is afraid that you will reject him."

Dumbledore's words were so suggesting and the explanation sounded so natural that even Black and Hermione found themselves convinced.

"My young _nephew_" Severus mimicked the Headmaster's tone "is sincerer than you. And as for you, Black," he turned to his ex-rival. "Never touch him again."

He put his arm around Harry's shoulder.

"Come on, boy. It's bed-time," he told Harry. "I will be back in no time," he looked back from the door, "and we will find place for everyone."

***************************************************************************

Severus wasn't stupid. Something was going on, he could feel perfectly, but even his sharp senses could not tell him what _that_ was precisely. Something about his nephew. About this... brilliant, serious, kind and mysteriously familiar boy.

Was this familiarity a remainder from the last year, something that could not be deleted even by a Memory Charm? Or was there something else? He was asking these questions again and again in the last week.

He could feel the boy's constant tension as well. And the increasing tiredness from day to day. As if his nephew never slept. Sometimes, he had the feeling that he saw the after-effect of various curses lingering on the boy's body: the muscular reaction was so unambiguous... Mostly Cruciatus. 

But.

But.

Always this 'but'. Who on Earth could curse him in Snape Manor in the middle of the night without entering the house and the room? He had checked the Floo connection, the wards, he even put a Guarding Spell around the boy's room, which would have signalled if anybody had crossed it.

But nothing and nobody entered his room. Nevertheless, the boy seemed more and more exhausted. Well, Severus couldn't see anything in his face – but his movements were transparent.

Concealing Charms. The bloody kid used some kind of Glamourie in order to hide himself.

Severus had never been a trusting man. In the last twenty years he had turned into an overly paranoid man, he was aware of that. But this boy was REALLY hiding something from him. Why? He couldn't answer.

From time to time he was about to cast the Revelo on the stupid child – but he always stopped himself. Somehow, he wanted _the boy _to tell his story. Like he told Severus the truth about their relationship. Without any compulsion, pressure, yelling or blackmail. And – against Dumbledore's will. And that _was _something!

The strange relationship between the boy and Dumbledore was a little bit confusing, none-the-less. He had never seen anybody – except for Voldemort and his followers – who dared to openly resist the old man. And this kid had done it. More than once. He had caught one of their quarrels in the hospital. There had been some other slight mentions of similar rows later too. Even Dumbledore had confessed that they had had their differences.

Strange. The boy was seventeen, wasn't he? But then... who was he to resist Dumbledore? Who had his brother been to sire such a stubborn child?

After the latter question had first emerged in him, Severus had begun to file through family documents and belongings to learn something about his own flesh and blood. He didn't find too many things: just a birth and a death certificate (the latter had confirmed the boy's story about the circumstances of his brother's death. It had mentioned that Quietus Snape had been tortured with various curses, but it had been the Cruciatus, which had ended his life.

No pictures, no other documents, nothing at all. He had to ask Dumbledore or this strange boy if he wanted to know more.

However, he had found some pictures of him and this kid on the mantelpiece. In the picture, they were sitting next to each other on the sofa in the sitting room, he was resting his left arm around the boy's shoulder, while he was leaning against him comfortably... But there was something strange in the photo as well: the boy was younger, but extremely, almost sickly thin, his cheekbones were standing out prominently and dark circles surrounded his eyes. He seemed to be in such bad shape that his present, miserable state should be counted as normal.

Was the boy suffering with some incurable maladies? Had Dumbledore decided to appoint him as his guardian just to find a cure? But in that case why hadn't they told him anything about the problem?

As the days passed one after the others, they arrived to the infamous events, which finally caused Frederick Weasley's death, and the Order moved to Snape Manor, to his immense disgust. The boy had a break-down the attack's night over the young Weasley's death, and it was Severus who accompanied him to his room. It was the first time he entered that room since the boy had moved in, but he could feel the presence of some charms... Silencing charms on the room. He had a strong urge to grab the boy and question him about the charms, but the strange child was dead on his feet, so Severus let him sleep and attacked the Headmaster instead.

"Albus, I have to talk to you," he said just as soon as they were alone. By that time everybody had received a place to spend the night. "It's the boy."

"Not now, Severus," Albus shook his head. "I have to contact Poppy and Cassia, and I have to talk to the Weasleys as well. Tomorrow will be a meeting of the school governors, then Lucius Malfoy's trial  in the afternoon and the day after tomorrow. I have to contact Arcus about the deaths and the school's new routine – you don't remember, but Lucius as the Headmaster changed the School's routine in several places and we have to re-establish the old one... I'm sorry, my dear boy, you have to ask the boy if you want your answers."

"No, Albus. I don't want to confront him. I'm sure you know the answers to my questions and..."

"No," Dumbledore said firmly. "And believe me, if we don't tell you something, you don't have to know about that."

"You're tossing the responsibility to the boy, Albus. You're unfair to him." Severus took a deep breath. "All right. I offer you a deal. You answer one question sincerely and I won't leave the Order."

"Severus, don't blackmail me," Dumbledore said tiredly. "I don't have time for such games."

"Neither do I," Severus said coldly.

They stared silently at each other. Finally Dumbledore sighed.

"One question, Severus."

"Is the boy ill, Albus?"

The Headmaster, to Severus's surprise, closed his eyes and reaching his hands to his temples massaged his head tiredly.

"It's not an easy question to answer, Severus. Technically, he isn't ill. He doesn't suffer with any maladies or things like that."

"But?"

"But he has deep inner scars. He was treated badly all his childhood. This has had its effects on his physical health as well."

"You mean he was abused, Albus?" Severus asked vividly.

"That's the second question, Severus. I can't..."

"WAS HE ABUSED? TELL ME, ALBUS FOR GOD'S SAKE!" Severus yelled at the Headmaster and grabbed the older man's arm. "ANSWER ME, answer me, please!" The last words were more a pleading than his usual neutral-like questions.

"Yes, he was, Severus," the Headmaster whispered defeated. "But, please, don't ask him about it. He will tell you everything in due time, when he feels he can trust you again."

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, Severus repeated to himself even when he was lying in his bed. He had a nephew, who was full of mysteries, and was abused – and whom he had to pretend to be his father. An ideal base to a good relationship, he thought. He had to try to gain to an abused child's trust – an abused and probably even more paranoid child than him, Severus Snape. He didn't have a clue how to begin.

***************************************************************************

The door creaked quietly as somebody entered the lab.

"Can I help you?"

Severus lifted his eyes. The boy seemed more healthy than the previous day: a good night's sleep had its own priceless effects on the boy. He examined the lines of the familiar face: there were still lines of exhaustion and pain on his face, years of terror couldn't be healed with one peaceful night. And his eyes were black and sullen. The poor thing.

"If you want..." he shrugged.

The boy tiptoed closer and peered into the cauldron.

"The modified Wolfsbane, isn't it?" he looked at Severus over the cauldron.

"I couldn't resist the temptation to try it myself," the Potions Master let a little smile appear around his lips.

"It was you who created it," the boy smiled back, and leaned over the desk to check the ingredients.

"The article said you helped me a lot."

The boy turned his eyes to him. In that moment, as the light fell on the thin face Severus caught a bluish bruise. Almost in a daze, he reached out his hand and touched the swollen skin.

"What's this?"

The boy lifted his fingers tentatively to his face.

"Oh," he said and his smile disappeared. "Sirius slapped me yesterday. Because..."

"I know," Severus said and felt a sudden anger. The boy cringed as he heard the sharp tone. Severus touched his shoulders lightly. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at Black. He had no right to hit you."

"But I..."

"Stop. I heard the whole story from Miss Granger and the Headmaster. I talked to Mr Nott this morning. You did what you thought to be the best solution. It was a stupid thing to do, but the attack was not your fault."

"Fred was my friend," the boy said suddenly. Severus was genuinely startled. He was not used to situations like that: grieving boys... "He and George were almost the first to accept me in the school, even if they were told that you are my father. And now, he is dead... And I never thanked him for trying to save our lives," the boy crouched and pressed his forehead to the side of the desk. Severus felt himself definitely an idiot.

What was he supposed to do with a _sobbing_ boy? What did parents do in a situation like that? If the boy were a little bit younger... but he was seventeen! He couldn't recall any memories of himself crying as an adult...

No. There was ONE time. When he learned about Anne's death. Severus all of a sudden remembered that afternoon perfectly. He had been in his flat in London. He had returned from work some minutes before and he had picked up his copy of the _Daily Prophet _to scan through it during the relaxing cups of tea. When he had first caught the title he thought to be a mistake,

"_The Dark Mark over Black Manor_" had been the article's title on the first page. And there had been a picture with moving Ministry Aurors and unmoving victims. Anne.

And another memory: his first kill. The children, the adults... The feeling that he had done something irreparable, something so dreadful, that could be never forgiven...

This boy now blamed himself for the death of a friend.

Slowly, unsurely he circled the desk and neared the boy as cautiously as he would a wild animal and crouched next to him.

"It was not your fault, Quietus," he called the boy by his first name for the first time he could remember. "It was just an unfortunate mistake. You tried to save Mr Nott. You did nothing wrong."

The boy almost howled now. Severus felt his heart beating in his throat. What did he do wrong? He could see as the boy's nails scratched the solid material of the desk, and he clenched his hands into fists so hard that his knuckles turned white, and hit the furniture with unexpected strength.

"I should have been more considerate. I'm nothing more than an irresponsible idiot..." his voice cracked by a sudden choke.

"No," Severus felt lost. He wasn't too good in this consoling stuff. "You are not irresponsible. You are not an idiot. It wasn't your fault," good God how many times was he supposed to repeat these sentences to convince this grieving kid?

"I don't want to live any more," the boy choked out through his sobs.

Severus's heart stopped. It was _his own _feeling. How many times had he wished the same when he had been remembering his own faults, mistakes and sins?

But...

But...

These blasted buts again. The boy certainly did not have any sins similar to his! Why was he so desperate then?

Pressing his lips together Severus grabbed the boy's two hands by his wrists and almost ripped them from the desk and forced the kid to face him.

"Look at me," he moaned suppressing his own doubts. "Look into my eyes."

Slowly-slowly the boy turned his tear-soaked face to Severus breathing and choking heavily.

"It. Is. Not. Your. Fault," Severus repeated halting after every word. "Look. This is a war. Every war has its victims. You can't avoid sometimes losing people who are close to you."

A quick blink and a betrayed look suddenly made Severus realise that the boy now thought of him as one of these lost peoples. The hands in his grasp went limp, and the shoulders slumped.

"I know," came the response in a tiny, hoarse voice. "But I don't have to like it."

"No, you don't," Severus agreed.

"Nothing will be the same from now," the boy whispered.

"Life is always like this," Severus murmured.

"I know," the boy lowered his head, his shoulders trembled again and fell forward Severus's chest. The Potions Master stiffened in surprise, but resisted the urge to jump back. This was something he'd never experienced before. He was not the comforting type, so nobody ever sought _his _comfort. But... it wasn't something entirely disgusting. On the contrary, it was a nice feeling, and he patted the boy's back in an – in his opinion – reassuring way and let him weep. As the boy felt his acceptance, he threw his arms around Severus and hugged him for a short moment.

"Thank you, Severus," he said and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "But I think we should check your potion. It stinks."

Severus, to his utter surprise, felt reluctant to leave the boy so abruptly, but the potion _really_ stank. He jumped to his feet.

"It's still all right," he smiled at the boy and reached out his hand help him up. "But we have to hurry. In some minutes we have to begin the next phase."

"Of course."

They worked fast in a comfortable silence. Just after the potion was bubbling peacefully on the fire, and everything was prepared for the third phase, they sat down for a while. Catching sight of the bruise on the boy's face, Severus suddenly stood up and stalked across to his cupboard and fetched a healing lotion.

He stepped up to the window.

"Come here," he waved at the boy. He obeyed.

Furrowing his brows, Severus cautiously drabbled the lotion on the bruise. The boy tensed a little bit, but relaxed under the soft touch.

"It feels nice," he smiled with his eyes closed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

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Next: PERHAPS Wednesday. I don't know. I depart to my scholarship next Tuesday and I don't know whether I will have time to write the new chapter or not. SO: If not Wednesday, then next weekend. Sorry, really.

I promise, if my beta can follow my speed I will upload two chapters per week in October again, like in the old days.

Enahma


	6. Back to Hogwarts again

Betaed by Barbara

Sorry for the long delay.

Anyway, here is the new chapter and from the next week on I try to upload two chapters per week (it depends on Barbara), and so I can finish it before the end of November and I can concentrate on my studies here better.

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Chapter 6 – Back to Hogwarts again

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The Burrow was deadly silent when Severus and Harry arrived in the afternoon of the funeral. In Harry's mind the Burrow and happiness were almost identical expressions, this had been the first place Harry felt real happiness and joy – and now, it lay in something, which resembled a deep slumber, unmoving and silent, as if every tiny piece of that happiness had died out of this place forever. The windows were closed as grief-tired eyes, and not even a gnome moved in the garden.

Snape seemed untouched, but he had never been there before, Harry thought to himself, but he, Harry was nervous and dreaded the meeting with the Weasleys dearly. Yes, he had been told many times that Fred's death hadn't been his fault, that he had just been concerned about Ares's well-being, but nevertheless he couldn't forgive himself. Fred had accepted him as Quietus Snape and never shown prejudice towards the Potions Master's son unlike many other Gryffindors and his brother whom Fred had protected him against as well. He and George had always been there as company for a Hogwarts weekend, and Fred had been one of the group that had attempted to free he and Severus from Voldemort's grasp, and now, he was dead.

And another memories came – from the time when Harry had been still Harry Potter, and the twins had helped him so many times that it was impossible to count: many times their help had been just a good joke or some simple prank, but they had lightened Harry's often dark mood – even in his second year when almost everybody believed and treated him as the Heir of Slytherin himself... Well, in a certain, wrenched sense he WAS – even if not the Heir of Slytherin, but rather a descendant of some pretty dark ancestors, although his father and mother had certainly not been dark wizards.

But returning to the present, Fred lay dead and nobody could revive him any more. Harry suddenly realised he would be very grateful for someone to lean on in a very concrete sense of the word, but the only possibly eligible person would be Severus, and their relationship still wasn't deep enough to do it. So, Harry sighed and braced himself for anything that could await him inside. Severus knocked on the door politely instead of stalking inside in his usual manner, and they waited until Bill opened it for them. The elderly, brownish door opened with a loud creaking.

"Professor Snape, Quietus," the redhead smiled at them weakly and ushered them towards the crowded kitchen. "I'm afraid we are a little overstuffed for the time being..." he apologised without really meaning it, and disappeared amongst the standing people supposedly to introduce them.

They didn't enter the room. Snape hated crowded places and now, Harry was genuinely relieved about it. His strong dislike of being touched had diminished significantly, but it still didn't mean that he liked being surrounded and pressed from every side. However, Harry didn't know whether he could withstand the feeling at all, since he'd never tried it before.

Snape decided to stop in the little entrance hall, until something would happen, but Harry went to the kitchen's door to peer inside. Despite his uneasiness he was curious who were in there. His now considerable height helped him a lot. He could see over the heads when he stood on his tiptoes, and the Weasley's kitchen wasn't very spacious. He could see everybody clearly. Every member of the Order was there and the whole Weasley family – except for Percy. Harry was appalled and angry at the same time. Well, Percy and his family had different political – and perhaps also ethical – ideas, but it was his brother nevertheless who had been killed. And he hadn't come, even though he wasn't in prison like many other of his fellow Aurors. Harry didn't know anything else about the bigheaded, narrow-minded git, he didn't even know what he was doing, where he was working, the only thing he knew about him was that the Ministry fired him not long after Patil became Minister. Their last meeting, however, had reduced Harry's willingness to meet him to nil, so he wasn't disappointed, just sad on behalf of the other family members.

Hermione, who was speaking to Ginny, suddenly caught sight of Harry's tall form in the doorframe. She waved at him smiling. Ginny followed her glance and cracked a half-smile as well. Hermione had been in the Weasley's house for three days to help Mrs Weasley and the family in the days before the funeral and to offer some silent support for all of them. Now, she left her companion and fought her way through the crowd.

"Hello, Quiet," she stepped up to Harry and hugged him tightly. "They don't blame you, on the contrary, don't worry," she whispered so that only Harry could hear. "It was not your fault. Don't make them sadder by blaming yourself, please."

Hermione's information somewhat eased Harry's anxiousness, but he still don't know how to face Ron whom he had rejected even after his obvious apology the last year.

"And what Ron did to you has nothing to do with the present situation," Hermione continued her whispering as if she were reading Harry's mind. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Miss Granger, please," Snape's cold voice interrupted the quiet words. "Can I have my son back or you want to cling to him all afternoon?"

Hermione released Harry and when he looked at her, he noticed the blush on her face.

"Sorry, professor," she mumbled.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Harry said firmly. "And thanks."

They smiled at each other quickly, and then Hermione left them trying to let their arrival be known to the grieving family.

"So, is she just a _friend_?" Harry suddenly heard Severus's quiet voice from his side, and even without looking at him he could _hear_ his smirk as well.

"Yes," he lifted his head and looked directly into Severus's eyes. "But not _just_ a friend. She's a real one. A very generous and helpful friend at that." He couldn't help but become angry. Hermione was his friend, or even more, she was his best friend: the girl was the only one person who knew almost everything about him, and on the other hand he didn't want any more girlfriends. The two girls he had been attracted to in the past were enough: in secret, Harry always blamed himself for Cedric's death as well, and in his dreams he even accused himself of letting Cedric be killed just to obtain his girlfriend... and as for Leah, Voldemort's newest follower... Well, it was better not to think about her at all. Sometimes, when he saw her in his visions, he woke up with tears in eyes, trembling and feeling an inexpressible emptiness inside. The girl was still beautiful and seemed so innocent... He didn't know what to think about her, so he tried not to think of her at all.

And on top of his girlfriend-stuff there was Trelawney's prophecy. Harry could remember perfectly his father's suggestions about its meaning as he had read it in his diary months ago:

_"And... there is another thing. Yesterday, Lily showed me a book about prophecies. She was looking for the meaning of my prophecy since September, and now, I share her results with you._

_I copy the prophecy here first:_

_ 'Through death, you will give life; by your love, your beloved will defeat your enemy. But the Dark Lord will be back when his time will come and your offspring has to face death to eliminate him and to remain.'_

_She explained that I would die. Well, I've always suspected that. She said that my death probably will cause someone else's life, however this explanation was rather blurry even for her. It will be Lily who defeats Voldemort, but only temporarily, as it's clear from the second half. We will have a child, you, but your doom isn't as definite as ours. You can chose if you want to defeat him or not. If you chose the former, in order to save the world from a monster's grip, you have to die. I don't know if you know the one possible way to dodge the Killing Curse – it's the sacrifice. But this goes not only to the Killing Curse, but to every killing intention. Only the willing sacrifice is capable of saving and preserving our world. Seemingly, it's YOUR willing sacrifice._

_The 'remain' part in the end of the prophecy is another interesting topic._

_I think you can begin to write your own diary... if you know what I'm talking about..."_

He had read this page so many times that he already knew it by heart. That bloody prophecy suggested his early death, and Harry really didn't want to go into a relationship just to leave another grieving person behind, not to mention those children his father had been hinting about in his last sentence. However... he was starving for love and affection, and other, more corporal things as well, but he always ignored these thoughts, accepting the few things he received: Hermione's friendly care, Severus's reluctant attention, Sirius's stupid love (because Sirius loved him, Harry knew that very well, it was just that his godfather loved him in his own way, which, apparently, was not even parallel with Harry's expectation of love) and his other friends, Ares and Neville's affection.

And once upon a time there were Fred and George as well...

"Severus, Quietus," Mrs Weasley interrupted Harry's musings. She somehow struggled out of the kitchen to greet them. Harry had been half-expecting her to cry or to wail aloud, but she was totally quiet, her eyes were dry, although they were red and bloodshot, and dark circles encircled them and she was much more thinner than ever before, but she was strong and steady as a rock, and Harry all of a sudden realised, that his previous impressions of her were deceiving. She wasn't weak. Not at all. She still had a family to look after, two underage children to bring up and a husband to support, other children who were going to war, and she couldn't allow herself to grieve for long. Now, she shook their hands and drove them into the room where they could meet the other family members.

"George," Harry couldn't help but tremble as they looked at each other. If Mrs Weasley was in a bad shape then George looked like he was dying. His face was sallow, his eyes dull and emotionless, his lips pressed together forming an unfamiliar sneer on his face. He just nodded at Harry, but when he caught his old professor's sight he greeted him properly.

"I'm glad to see you, professor," he mumbled barely above a whisper. "And I want to thank you for your help..."

"There's nothing you have to thank me, Mr Weasley," Severus said in his best Snape-voice, although his tone was slightly warmer than usual.

They were referring to the fight, Harry knew, because he had seen the whole thing in his vision. In reality, it was Snape who tried to save Fred's life, but being under the Fidelius had made his help too complicated and slow. But he had saved George at least.

Just now, after Severus's words George turned to Harry and hugged him tightly for a moment.

"Hermione told us that you blame yourself. Stop it. It's Voldemort's fault, not yours."

Ron stepped up to them.

"George is right, Quietus," he said calmly and reached out his hand. Harry accepted it and they shook hands firmly. "Professor," he nodded towards Severus, with a slight dislike still in his eyes.

If Severus was surprised that his supposed son was so familiar with Gryffindors, Harry couldn't see any trace of it on his face. He just stood there forbiddingly, his hands folded over his chest, looking at the Headmaster who moved closer to them. The old man's face was haggard and sallow, the wrinkles seemed deeper than anytime before, his glance was tired and dull. Even his movements were somehow slower and more unsure, missing the normal steadiness and determination.

"We have ten minutes left," still, Dumbledore's voice sounded clearly over the blurred conversations. "I suggest that those who are not family members start towards the cemetery. Mundungus will show you the way."

The crowd's march was quiet and sluggish, and after some steps Harry found himself between Hermione and Severus, the latter shooting quick glances towards the girl as if he was judging her. Harry most definitely didn't like those glances, but it was not the time or place to discuss it, so he chose to ignore him the entire time.

The event was long and heartbreaking. Mostly the part, when – to many people's utter surprise – Percy showed up and stood next to his family not leaving their side till the service's end. Mrs Weasley, who till that point seemed so firm and strong suddenly broke down, and after that his lost and found son supported her.

Harry couldn't cry. He had no tears remaining. He just looked dully when the coffin sank into the pit, and when the hard and dry clods began to hit it, clenched his teeth strongly and determined not to cry. He was so lost in his thoughts and feelings, that only Severus's hissing voice could snatch him out of his thoughts.

"Catch her!" the man hissed, and Harry blinked with confusion. Severus's next movement was unthinkably fast. He circled Harry and slipped his arms under her Hermione's and stopped her body from falling. The next moment he lifted her and carried to the nearest shadowed area. Harry followed them.

"Mum, mum," he heard Hermione's soft moaning.

"Hermione?" he asked unsurely.

The girl looked up when Severus put her down on a bench.

"Life stinks," she said in a trembling voice. Harry crouched next to her.

"You've already said that."

"I know. It still stinks though."

"Yes, I know," Harry whispered back after a short break. They looked at each other not noticing the scrutinising, but understanding look the dark, tall man cast at them.

***************************************************************************

Most fortunately the boy had not been compelled to participate in Malfoy's trial, Severus thought some days after the funeral. He couldn't imagine what another ordeal would have done to him. The other thing Severus was most definitely happy about was that they were leaving to go to Hogwarts for the last weeks of the summer holiday. Dumbledore had told him that he had closed his fireplace in the school, so they had to make their way through the Headmaster's Floo connection, but it wasn't important.

They would leave this whole mess behind in a few minutes, and he wouldn't have to bother himself with Black, his stepdaughter, his two students and the whole Order any more. He would be left alone, except for the boy, but that was all right. His companionship was surprisingly supportable, sometimes even enjoyable.

Well... as for Fred Weasley's funeral... it had made Severus understand some very important things about his nephew. First, the boy cared strongly for his friends. He had suspected and even accused him to feel more towards that Granger girl than... simply, the two's relationship was something else, something more than a simple friendship in Severus's opinion. But what was that 'more'? Severus's guess was that it wasn't love. It was more a common feeling of being alone and abandoned, of being an orphan, of having nobody to lean on, to count on. Both had lost their families in the spring: Granger's parents had been killed the same night he Obliviated himself, and now, on top of all this, the war was going on, and nobody could see its possible end.

"I'm ready, Severus," the boy said as he entered the room. "We can leave."

"You can return any time you want," Severus replied shortly. He took a good look at the guy again. Well, he _was_ a Snape – and this thought somehow always warmed him inside. And to be honest, not only _that_ warmed him strangely, but the boy's mere presence had a very strong effect on him. For the first time in this present, Obliviated life Severus felt something akin to belonging, and even the responsibility of looking after the boy was a definitely a _good_ burden to carry.

"Oh, Severus, Quietus, good to see you again," Dumbledore's voice startled him, and he suddenly realised that they were already in the Headmaster's office. He looked at the old man, who was sitting behind mountain-like piles of documents, his glasses were slipped onto the top of his crooked nose.

"I see you're busy, Albus," Snape sighed as he thought of his own documents and shook his head in exasperation.

"Well, quite," Dumbledore stood up and stretched himself. "But I wanted to talk to Quietus anyway," he turned to the boy. "I know that it was surely a surprise when you learned that you were chosen to be the Head Boy this year, although you've never been a prefect. So, I contacted Minerva and..."

"Stop!" Severus's voice interrupted the soft stream of words. "What does Minerva have to do with Quietus's prefect duties?"

Dumbledore seemed startled and he cast a look at the boy over his glasses. The boy shook his head. Dumbledore sighed, and turned back to Severus.

"He's a Gryffindor, Severus," he said calmly.

Severus saw that both of them braced themselves to his reaction, but he didn't erupt. After all, it wasn't too unexpected. The only non-Gryffindor friend his nephew had, Ares Nott, was an outsider Slytherin, all his other friends were Gryffindors: the Granger girl, the Weasley twins, even Neville in the hospital...

"I can imagine the students' surprise when they learned that my _son_," he accentuated the last word a little sarcastically, "is indeed a Gryffindor. The thing I'm the most curious about is what the Slytherins' reaction was."

Dumbledore shrugged hesitantly and motioned towards the boy.

"It's not my story to tell you, Severus. I wasn't here. It happened during Lucius's time."

The strange kid smiled awkwardly.

"They didn't know what to think. I think they were under a severe shock. But most of them didn't mind my house placement," he said.

"Stop again," Severus sounded confused. "What about this stuff about Lucius and your sorting?"

Short silence.

"Look, Quietus wasn't sorted in the beginning of the year..." the Headmaster was again interrupted.

"Yes, Albus! But that's against school rules!"

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," the boy added quietly. Both men stared at him questioningly. "For the Headmaster's rule-breaking attitude," he added explaining. "He was once a Gryffindor, so I thought it correct to take points from Gryffindor."

The Headmaster smiled, a genuine smile for the first time in many weeks, and some of the old twinkle reached his eyes again. Even Severus shook his head in amusement.

"I agree with this young boy here," he looked at his old friend, "but I really want to know the reason why he wasn't sorted."

Dumbledore's light mood disappeared.

"None of us wanted Quietus to be ripped from you, Severus," he explained softly. "It was partially your anxiousness to protect him from occasional Voldemort followers amongst the student population..."

"I see," Severus really understood a part of his past deeds. But everything related to the boy seemed too strange, too emotion-driven. And he didn't consider himself as someone driven by his emotions.

He was still thinking about his past motives, when a familiar shape appeared in front of them in the dungeons.

"Nice to meet you again, Severus, Quietus."

"Sir," the boy bowed slightly in a perfectly polite way towards the ghost.

"Saevus," Severus joined him.

"Your son is more and more like you and your brother, Severus. You can be proud of him. He's polite as you and clever as Quietus was once."

Severus had the sudden feeling that he always had when his long dead brother was mentioned: confusion, emptiness, longing and most surprisingly – pain.

So, he just nodded to the Bloody Baron and neared his door. It took just a moment to get in.

With a quick flick of his wand he ignited the fires in the torches and fireplace.

Then something hit him.

Something inexplicable.

The clock. The clock on the wall.

Sudden panic tightened his throat, but he didn't know why.

The clock was a completely new thing in his room. It had two arms, which now were pointing at the place: Home. 

Quietus. Severus. Home.

But it wasn't that what hit him.

For a short moment, he could clearly see another position. Severus – Home. Quietus – GB.

He could perfectly imagine what GB could mean.

The Greatest Bastard. Voldemort.

He looked at the boy, but he already disappeared into the kitchenette and soft clinks let him know that he was preparing tea. Severus dropped their boxes onto the floor and strode across towards the fireplace, because his eyes had caught something.

Photos. There were photos on the mantelpiece. He gulped heavily. Many, many photos of the boy in the kitchen, and some of them together. And he – he was smiling in a way, he previously was deadly sure he would never smile in his life: happily, his smile reached even his eyes...

Severus stared frozen at his own picture, which winked at him and waved, then wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulder, who, too, seemed happy. Suddenly, he remembered his first conversation with him, after he had woken in the hospital.

_"How much have I missed?"_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Were we on good terms?"_

_"Very good terms, to tell the truth."_

It happened not long after he felt life return into his body. Somebody bathed him. Oh, it was the boy, again.

He moved on to his desk. Another picture with him and the boy playing chess. It had had to mean something to him before, because he had put it on his desk. As he reached his hand towards the photo, his arm brushed to a pile of papers which slipped and fell from the desk, slowly, like snow, covering the pavement like enormous snowflakes. Potions tests and essays. Marked and unmarked mixed together.

He forgot about the photo and leaned over to pick up the papers from the floor.

The first one he managed to pick up was Neville Longbottom's. A test. A perfectly scored test at that.

"Severus?" a little bit worried voice called after him.

He emerged from behind the desk and straightened up.

"Yes?" he asked solemnly.

"Your tea," the boy smiled relieved and put the cup on the table. Severus just nodded and opened the upper drawer of his desk. There it was. His journal of the students. It was a little bit strange to read the date on it; it was a date of a year he had absolutely no memories about. He opened to the fifth year students. The list was familiar except for two changes: Potter was not on it, and Quietus's name was added on the last place. O – 'Outstanding' stood next to his name. It wasn't anything to be surprised about. In the hospital he had recognised the boy's knowledge and skill on the field. But next to Longbottom's name... unbelievable, and there was, written with his own handwriting. 'Exceeds Expectations'. Longbottom. Exceeds. Expectations. Ridiculous.

His eyes quickly checked the whole list just to see if there was any other shocking change, but there wasn't.

Just Longbottom.

Suddenly, he leapt to his feet and left his quarters heading towards his own laboratory. When he entered, it seemed almost untouched, except for the fact that the paperwork was neatly done, and all of the documents lay in order on the desk. Final exams, OWLs, NEWTs. With slightly trembling hands he lifted the OWLs pack and leafed through it to 'L'.

Longbottom – he found it almost immediately. 'Exceeds Expectations' again. And his writing test: 'Outstanding'. Outstanding? How could it be?

He collapsed into his chair. What happened last year? Where did he leave his right mind? The clumsy Longbottom kid as a potion brewer?

He gathered all the documents and carried them back to their quarters. When he returned, the boy didn't seem surprised.

"It was Neville, wasn't it?" he asked, smiling broadly. He grunted something back and dropped his burden onto the desk causing a sudden and complete mess on it.

They passed the remainder of the afternoon in comfortable silence. He was learning his ex-first years' names, checking on another tests and exams, and setting up the new NEWTs Potions class: one instead of the two, because simply there weren't too many students who can excel in their potions exams enough to be selected. Snape, Longbottom, Granger, Patil, Malfoy, Nott, Bullstrode from the Slytherin-Gryffindor class, and five others: Boot, Brocklehurst, Abbot, Perks, and another Patil. Well, it will be interesting to have another set of twins in his NEWTs Potions, although he knew that the girls weren't as talented as the Weasley twins had been.

By the way, Weasleys... a recent memory came into his mind: he and the two blasted boys brewing some suspicious potions in the night, just after he had caught them. The Fred guy, with his wide smirk on his face, when they finally had completed it... Suddenly, a stab of pain stopped his breath for a moment. Fred Weasley was gone forever.

Everything was changing around him.

He stood up wearily to go to bed. To his surprise the boy had already fallen asleep on the sofa, a book was pressed against his face, and the pages rustled as he breathed evenly. Severus couldn't suppress a smile. He pulled the book off cautiously and summoned a blanket. For a short moment he was thinking of where the boy had slept when he had been living here with him. Just as he entered the bedroom, he knew the answer. He sighed, turned around and with a quick wave of his wand he levitated the boy to the bed that seemed to be his.

After returning from the bathroom, he put out every light in the room, but somehow it felt wrong, so he re-ignited one close to the boy's bed. Then he couldn't sleep because of the quiet buzz of the other's sleeping. With a sudden idea, he create a Silencing Ward around his bed.

It was immediately better.

He fell asleep.

***************************************************************************

"... so I tell you, Severus, the boy would be better in Ravenclaw than in Gryffindor," Flitwick finished his long argument. "He is our best student."

They were sitting in the teachers' room, just after breakfast, waiting for Dumbledore to arrive and to bring his next victim – newest Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher – to introduce to them.

"Dumbledore would never agree, Filius," Severus yawned. "And personally, I think the boy is satisfied with his present situation."

"But his talents..."

"You have lessons with him, Filius. You can teach him everything you want."

"I don't think that Gryffindor surroundings helps him to fulfil his potential, Severus. His results were lower after he was placed there."

"Were they?" Severus lifted an eyebrow. "When I took a closer look to his OWLs results I almost fainted. He almost did it perfect, although he was quite distracted at that time. I was in the hospital dying, his friends were grieving just after he barely survived an encounter with Voldemort... I think we have to take these things into consideration as well, Filius."

The tiny Charms professor smiled.

"I didn't know you were supporting Gryffindor, Severus."

"Of course I'm not!" Severus cried out indignantly.

"With your son in that house you will make them win the House Cup in the incoming year as well."

Oh, he knew about it: Minerva hadn't missed rubbing in his face that Gryffindor had won the House Cup last year.

"Filius," he finally wanted to end the argument. "If I could I would argue with Albus to put the boy into _my_ house, don't you think?"

His colleague blushed deeply to Severus's words.

"I think you're right," he mumbled. "Look, I just..." but he couldn't finish. Dumbledore and his newest victim arrived. The general mood in the room lightened immediately. The new teacher was a young woman, in her mid-thirties, she had brown hair and brown eyes and a very warm look.

Severus looked at her with mild interest. The first good-looking person after so many ugly and/or untalented teachers. This one could be not competent, but at least was somebody good to look at. For a short time Severus even played with the idea of sharing his thoughts with his nephew, but then rejected it. It was not a fatherly thing to do. Or perhaps it was fatherly considering the boy's age, but as his professor as well, he just couldn't tell him stuff like that.

"Armenia Noir," Dumbledore introduced her. The girl was only slightly familiar to Severus, but he could see on his colleagues' faces that they recognised her immediately. "A first ranked Auror, once she was working for the Ministry, but after she had some complaints about his colleagues' questioning methods" _oh, another Knight of Truth_, Severus thought sarcastically, _where were the others like her when I was in the Ministry's care?_ "the Minister fired her. Since then she has been working as a security consultant for the Gringotts in France and Switzerland. Our new deputy Minister appointed her for a year, wishing her luck – just as we do after so many unfortunate incidents."

To tell the truth it was a pleasant surprise to have somebody competent finally. Although last year, as he had learnt from the boy, the previous teacher, Arabella Figg, had been a good choice as well. It was a pity she had been killed by Malfoy in the end. Apparently, Harold Potter's old curse was still lingering over the job. For a moment Severus wondered what would be the end of the new colleague. Would she survive this one year?

While Severus was wondering the newest staff member took a seat next to him. He stiffened with embarrassment. He didn't like the woman enough to enjoy her presence, not to mention a conversation. So, he turned his face away and looked at Minerva to ask something, but she was arguing with Flitwick, probably about his nephew.

And the new woman seemed adamant to introduce herself to Severus.

"Are you Severus Snape?" she asked him. He moaned and turned around.

"Yes, I am," he said coldly. His tone cut off some of the other's enthusiasm.

"I knew your brother," she chatted amicably. "He was in his fourth year when I began my studies here. I was a Ravenclaw like him."

Suddenly, Severus became animated. Finally, he could learn something about the boy's father and his brother. So he forced a smile-like expression to his face.

"Oh, really?" he asked and tried to sound not too cold or refusing.

"Yes. And I'm so happy that Arcus became the new Minister! You surely know that they were best friends with him," Severus didn't say anything, just nodded, "however later, when Quietus began to spend time with the old Potter their friendship turned looser..."

"What?" Severus asked embarrassed. Did he hear it right? _His_ brother and a _Potter_?

The new colleague burst in laughter.

"Oh, I see you still don't agree with your brother's acquaintances. Apparently, you haven't changed a bit."

Severus composed himself as fast as he could. It was time to use the tools he had learned as a spy. He forced a neutral expression to his face.

"No. I just had an accident this summer with a Memory Charm and I still have some problems remembering certain people," as an afterthought he added, "like the Potters."

"I see," the woman said seriously. "So you don't remember the relationship of your brother and the Potters."

"No," Severus answered with a similar seriousness. Deep inside, he was very curious whether the boy knew all this stuff and decided not to tell him, or he was just as uninformed as him. Meanwhile, the woman began his story.

"It wasn't a secret in the Ravenclaw common room that your brother didn't like to be at home. As I heard he never went home except for the summer holidays. Then, in his fourth year Headmaster Dumbledore told him to train under the tutelage of Harold Potter – as you surely know, the Defence job was cursed even in our Hogwarts time, so we had a lot of incompetent idiots," both smiled, "so your brother attended extra defence courses with the old guy... I'm sure it was him who cursed the job..."

Severus lifted his eyebrows.

"If you know that the job is indeed cursed why did you agree to teach it?"

The woman shrugged.

"I insisted that I would teach the subject only for one year – the average time of every teacher, and I hope I'll survive it," she added more quietly, "and, of course, I hope I'll find a counter-curse as well."

They couldn't continue their conversation, because Dumbledore finally opened their first meeting, and for three long hours they had to concentrate on timetables, classes, students and schoolbooks. By the end of the three hours, Severus couldn't think of anything else, just a hot shower and a good book to read – in silence. So he left the teachers' room and returned to his own quarters.

***************************************************************************

The Wizengamot sentenced Lucius Malfoy to deprivation of his magic and to life-long imprisonment in Liberty to Harry's utter relief. And he didn't even have to participate in the long trials to testify as to the bastard's guilt in killing Arabella Figg, however for 'his fast thinking and acting' as Mr Patil told him, he was recommended to be given the Order of Merlin second class, for saving the previous minister's pathetic life. Harry showed the letter to Severus quite warily not knowing whether he would belittle his actions or praise him.

Well, of course Severus didn't do anything like Harry's presuppositions. He seemed totally uninterested, and waved his hand dismissively as he said-

"These kinds of ranks are stupidity, you can very well live without them..." and Harry couldn't help but think of an evening when he and Hermione had freed Sirius, and Severus ran yelling in the Hospital Wing because he had missed his own chance to get the award. Sour grapes, wasn't it? "You'd do better to slice those mandragora leaves more neatly than to concentrate on such a meaningless thing..." he fumed and Harry smiled lowering his head.

Their relationship began to be a normal, family-like relationship, although the closeness Harry had been used to hadn't returned. They played chess, brewed potions, and went to Hogsmeade together, but there wasn't any real conversation between them, and Harry didn't know what to think about it. He sometimes caught Severus deep in chat with the newest staff member, and he couldn't decide his reason. Was he attracted to her? It didn't seem so, but Harry had never seen Severus being attracted before, so he couldn't be sure. Once, he thought he heard the 'Potter' name mentioned in their conversations together with his father's name, and he felt a sudden tug in his stomach: if Severus would get informed about the past's events, he would find out the truth sooner or later, and Harry was sure that it would be sooner rather than later.

He still didn't understand how Severus missed his regular visions, because as much as he tried to suffer through in silence, he knew that he cried out quite loudly, but the man didn't wake up. And Severus was a very light sleeper. It was a mystery. And Harry was dreading the day Severus found out his secret.

But Severus didn't find it out.

Not until the last night they spent together.

***************************************************************************

It happened two days after the last staff meeting, when the teachers cast the protection charms and wards, which were supposed to protect the Hogwards Express. As Severus had told Harry one year ago, they used different protection systems every year to avoid a possible future attack, if somebody figured out the code they used that year.

Harry couldn't see the usual, hooded person in the circle, so from the beginning, he was relieved that Voldemort wouldn't be informed about the school stuff. But the things that followed his discovery were much less relieving. Voldemort was very angry for not receiving such important information, so he punished two new members of the Inner Circle about some not-done steps, and although they were crying aloud that they tried to contact the school agent they couldn't find his (or her – it wasn't clear to Harry) present whereabouts. One of them even suggested that Dumbledore must have uncovered that person (they always mentioned their connection as 'school agent'). At their stupid explanation Voldemort became extremely enraged (Harry had known it since the two had begun their apologies) and ordered a short torture 'just for fun'.

Harry braced himself for the first blows, but he was sure, he couldn't hold his silence for too long. He would stir and perhaps even cry out and as the curses began to be stronger and stronger, his power to restrain himself was growing thin.

In the meantime he was praying silently that Avery wouldn't come, and nobody would use the Knife Curse during the process, but when Goyle cast the Bone-Breaking curse he suddenly could not hold back any more.

He cried as he felt the bones in his limbs breaking in two and cold sweat flooded his body. He knew that there wouldn't be any new information that night, so he tried to escape his vision, but as many times before, he didn't succeeded this time either.

A new wave of pain again clenched his chest: as if a giant had sat on him, his ribs felt like they were breaking like salty sticks in a child's hand.

He began to weep.

Then, somebody shook him out of his vision.

He knew that it had to be Severus.

He opened his eyes and panted for breath. His gaze met Severus's worried eyes.

"What was that?" the man asked softly, but for long moments Harry couldn't answer: he simply didn't have enough air in his lungs to do it.

"A nightmare," he said then.

"You're sweating," Severus touched his face.

"I know," he answered and sat up to go to the bathroom to have a shower.

Severus furrowed his brows when he caught sight of his pyjamas, which were stuck to his skin.

By the time Harry returned from the bathroom, Severus had changed the sheeting of his bed to a dry one. Harry cast a grateful look at him, as he slipped under the warm blanket.

"Did you put Silencing Charms around your room in the Manor not to be caught having nightmares?"

Harry didn't know what to answer, so he made a hesitant nod with his head.

"Why?"

Harry didn't answer, just looked at his blanket.

"Do you always dream about being tortured?" When Harry didn't open his mouth, Severus went on. "Are your nightmares always so strong?" Harry tried to sink deeper into his mattress. "Answer me, boy!" Severus snapped suddenly and Harry jerked away.

A sigh from his side.

"Sorry." A tentative touch on his shoulder. Once, it was Severus's. But now, this Severus wasn't his old one. Harry began to tremble. "Please. Tell me," he heard Severus quieter tone, but he was simply unable to speak, so he just wept silently into his pillow. "What did I do in the past, after I woke you?"

"You held me," Harry mumbled not caring if Severus heard it or not. He _knew _that Severus wouldn't hold him any more. Never. Never again.

But then, arms slipped around him, and he was half-lifted from the bed, then turned around facing Severus and the unsure arms moved tentatively closing around Harry into a cautious hug so that his face was now pressed to his ex-dad's shoulders, and he suddenly felt relaxed, and didn't want to think about Severus's change and their distant relationship, nothing else, just the kind embrace, which held him as in the old times, and Harry let himself cry.

***************************************************************************

Severus didn't move. He didn't know why or how, but this whole situation was so familiar – and so heartbreakingly good.

He held the boy tightly as long as he was weeping, he felt the hands clutching the fold of his nightclothes, he felt wetness on his shoulder, and he felt at home.

Somebody needed him. Somebody was leaning on him. Somebody belonged to him.

He was at home.

Wasn't he?

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YES! Another sappy chapter!

Next: The first half of the next week (perhaps weekend? ask Barbara!)


	7. Closer

Betaed by Barbara – as always.

The new chapter is HERE!

**And some bad news:** I want to finish this fic by the end of October – and I think I will abandon this site and the Harry Potter universe after that. I know that many of you like my stories, but I think I have to leave the Potter universe for some months (Years? Or permanently? I think it will be the latter.) to explore my own world and to finish my own fic (which is already half-made in Hungarian – I think I'm looking for a beta for that :-) ), to translate it, to post it to fictionpress.net and to write my thesis as well. So, I will upload as fast as I can (as the circumstances let me) and I hope that you will find your way to write me some encouraging words or to leave a review.

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Chapter 7 – Closer

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"HERE!" somebody shouted in the dark. "Here! Run!"

The air was filled with loud shouts, booms, with the noise of shattering windows and flying curses, moans and groans and cries of pain and terror.

Harry suddenly didn't know where he was. One minute before he had been in a compartment on the Hogwarts train chattering with Hermione, Ares, Neville, Seamus and – most surprisingly – Ron, yes, and there had been that new Erica girl as well (Hermione and Seamus as prefects and Harry as Head Boy left the prefects' car to meet their friends); they were talking amicably in peace, nibbling the sweets and telling and re-telling the events of the summer, when suddenly the train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness. For a moment only: as their eyes began accustomed to the dark, and they could see blurry moving figures all around the train when they peeked out of window.

They wore dark robes and their white faces were glittering in the light of several 'Lumos' spells. Their faces – no, those were not faces, they were masks. Which could mean only one thing: Death Eaters.

The moment the students recognised their attackers panic exploded amongst them. And when the first curse banged the doors open, the panic reached unbearable levels.

Harry's first thought was that they were entrapped in the train. They had no place to run or hide, they were tactically in the worst situation possible.

"Hey, mates," he half-whispered hoping that his friends would hear his voice. "We have to get out somehow. We are trapped here."

"The train is surrounded by Death Eaters. We cannot get out!" Seamus argued.

"We don't have any chance to resist here," Harry snapped back in hurry. "And there are a lot of unprotected children as well..."

"The first years!" Hermione cried out in fright. "They are completely..."

"We cannot protect them," Harry broke in on Hermione's words. "We have to create a situation in which they can flee."

"Break the windows!" Ron suggested.

"No! The windows are too high off the ground. The smaller children can't escape that way," Hermione wrung her hands. "We have to remove one of the train's walls."

"And cast a strong stunning curse ahead," Neville added. "Then the children can run that way."

"Right," Harry jumped to his feet. "Let's go. We have no time."

The conversation didn't last more than one minute. They filed out to the corridor, which was full of children and they peeked out the corridor windows to check that side of the train as well. Harry tried to raise his voice above all the noise.

"The train's wall will disappear in one minute! Wait for our stunning curses, then run as fast as you can! Try to hide somehow!"

"NO, Snape!" Malfoy's voice snapped loudly in a hostile manner. "If you remove the wall we will be unprotected!"

"We are trapped!" Harry shouted back. "We can't remain here! We have to flee!"

"Wait!" a new voice joined the conversation. "We'll help, but there are only three of us in here."

"Janus?" Harry asked towards him in the dark. "Is that you?"

"Yes, and some other Slytherin seventh years."

"And some Ravenclaw sixth," Terry Boot's voice was quiet, but clear. "We can help you cast those stunning spells ahead..."

"NOW!" Hermione cried. "We have no time! Whoever wants to join, do it now! Cast the spell. One-two-three..."

"_Evanesco!_" at least twenty voices bellowed in the same time and the fresh, cold September air blew in their faces. The corridor's wall disappeared into thin air.

"The Stunning curse!" Harry whispered in the sudden silence of the carriage. The other carriages weren't so silent, he could hear it. "One-two-three..."

"_Stupefy!_" this time almost thirty voice bellowed the spell, and bright lines of curses criss-crossed the field in front of them. Somebody groaned and surprised cries could be heard from every direction.

"Again!" Harry cried.

"_Stupefy!_"

They repeated five times in row, then Hermione cried out,

"RUN!"

Taking advantage of their enemies' surprise the children spread out in the dark field running as fast as they could. Harry remained behind, and he could hear Ares's fast breathing next to him.

"I want to fight," Ares said suddenly. "The other carriages are still under attack..."

To Harry's surprise he could hear the voices of his other friends around him telling him the same. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who had decided to help the others. Though, in the dark chaos he didn't have a clue how to do it. They were lying on their bellies next to the suddenly empty carriage.

"This way!" Harry heard Janus's voice and after some moments the wall of the next carriage followed theirs. 

"RUN!" somebody shrieked.

"The Ministry will be here in no time," Hermione whispered. "We have to stall for time until then."

Meanwhile, the chaos grew louder around them.

"_Personam revelo!_" a grown-up male voice shouted and a girl cried out in fear. "This is not the girl!"

"They're looking for somebody," Ares whispered in fear. "They cast the identifying spell..."

"They're looking for a girl," Hermione added.

"Erica..." Harry suddenly said. "They want to catch Eri..." he began to cry in exasperation, but a female voice suddenly interrupted him.

"I'm here. No need to worry."

"Oh," Harry sighed, although he didn't know whether to be relieved or not.

"I think their other target are still you," Neville suddenly added.

"HERE!" a voice bellowed from nearby. "Here's a group of them!"

"_Stupefy!_"

"_Expelliarmus!_"

"_Silencio!_"

Of course, it was Hermione, who cast the silencing charm, although it was already too late. 

"They're coming," Ron whispered in terror.

"Under the train!" Neville cried, grasped Erica's arm and dragged her with him. From Hermione's protesting voice he knew that Ron did the same to her. As Hermione was pulled away in her protest she managed to sweep Harry's wand out of his not too firm grasp. Harry was about to follow them, but now, he stopped and began to grope around himself in search of the lost wand. It didn't want to be found.

Harry began to get nervous. In the middle of a fight he simply lost his wand due to a stupid accident. Just beautiful.

"What are you doing?" he heard Ares's voice next to him.

"My wand. I cannot find my wand," he explained hurried.

"What?"

Harry opened his mouth to repeat his sentence, but he couldn't. Suddenly, an intense cold swept over him. It was all too familiar: the cold went deeper than his skin, it was inside his chest... The familiar coldness of desperation, loneliness, pain, fear, and nothingness. Dementors.

Dementors – and he had no wand.

Desperately he began to roll up his trouser and reached for his hidden wand, his real wand, but he was too late. The Dementors came too close and everything began to disappear into a painful feeling, a swirling mix of horrific memories.

Someone was screaming, screaming inside his head... his mother... a voice he heard so long ago.

_"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

_"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now...."_

_"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead --"_

Pain throbbed through Harry's body, but he was still conscious. But the painful memories didn't seem to stop. Another agonizing cry came – Harry immediately recognised it. It was Severus being tortured in Nightmare Manor, while they had been separated and Malfoy... Malfoy smashed his hands.

_"HARRY! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_ Severus's distressed shout when Pettigrew's Killing Curse had hit him.

_"Okay, boy, I will curse you if you don't answer."_ The Auror's voice before he had been hit by several Tormenta last year.

And finally,

_"Obliviate."_ The word, which had crushed his fake-safe world into tiny pieces.

It was that moment when he finally grabbed his wand and pointed towards the nearing faceless figures, concentrating hard on the previous night's comfort and care.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The end of his wand almost erupted as Prongs, the animagus image of his guardian, his step-father jumped out of it and in the next moment it galloped away towards his goal.

The fog began to clear from Harry's mind. The figures started first to retreat, later they fled unceremoniously. Harry sighed and collapsed back on his stomach.

Then, a tentative, almost fearful finger touched his arm and somebody whispered next to him,

"Potter..." Harry froze and didn't move. Other fingers joined the first, and it became a strong grasp, the weak voice changed into a horrid hiss.

"You are Potter," but it was more a question than a simple statement from Ares.

"We should move, Ares," he hissed back and moved to follow his friends, but Ares held his arm tightly.

"No."

"We MUST!" Harry wanted to yell.

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately the attackers grew nearer again. It succeeded in convincing Ares to move away, but before they could join their mates under the train loud cracks mixed into the fight's noises. It didn't take a lot of time for Harry to recognise the Ministry's badge on the newcomers' uniforms.

"Ministry Aurors!" he cried out in relief.

The chaos grew stronger at first, but after the initial surprise the Death Eaters began to Disapparate away, and the noises changed from panicked to relieved. Harry buried his face in his palms and sighed deeply, then, remembering his lost wand cast a fast Summoning Charm to find it. Feeling his father's wand in his hand he quickly replaced his own in its usual place and looked at the expectant Ares.

"I can't tell you anything," he muttered defeated.

Ares cast a scrutinising look at him.

"Right. But I know who you are. That Patronus..."

He didn't have to finish the sentence, Harry knew precisely what he meant.

"I can't tell you," he whispered. "Sorry."

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Patil was a lucky guy, Severus thought to himself while he was having his breakfast in the Great Hall. Three days before the official elections he managed to persuade the wizarding community of his efficiency in dangerous circumstances: first with Malfoy's trial and later, with the Ministry's extra quick reaction to the attack on the Hogwarts express. The Ministry's corps had arrived at the attack's scene in ten minutes, managed to drive away the Death Eater forces – and nobody had died. There had been some smaller injures, and a lot of shocked children, but all in all, the whole event could be termed fortunate and – for Patil – also well timed. Severus was sure that the British wizarding world would elect him as the new Minister after all of these happenings, but he didn't envy him. Patil would be a good Minister, and the Aurors' fast reaction had been undoubtedly to his merit more than the Aurors'. His new rules and order had caused this reaction speed and effectiveness.

Through the previous evening Severus's thoughts hadn't been the same cold and understanding. When the first news about the attack had arrived at the school, he suddenly felt something... unfamiliar. A very, very uncomfortable, suffocating cold pressure snuck around his chest and throat, and it was so unfamiliar that at first he hadn't known what it meant. Just after he had caught sight of the boy's tall form amongst the arriving students and the cold pressure left him, it had occurred to him that he had been worrying about his nephew. Oh, well, and during the long waiting he had been blaming himself for letting the boy go and meet his stupid friends in London, but the realisation of his own feelings had come about when the boy entered the Great Hall with his companions.

Without hesitation, he had hurried to the boy and asked him about his well-being earning a wide, bright smile, which somehow had had a magic affect on him – why? He didn't know, but that smile in some way had erased the last traces of his previous fright, and even Albus's usual open-term speech seemed more bearable than before.

Was it because that night he had been holding the restless boy for long hours? Severus couldn't decide. That night... Had the boy been a little bit younger, he would have felt like a parent, a real parent: holding an ill or restless child through the night was a parents' job. But his nephew was not a child. He was seventeen – almost an adult to be held. And then again... the boy had been so grateful, Severus could feel clearly. Gratitude.

Not for the first time in the last two months he had realised: the boy loved him. But.

There always was a 'but'. Something about the boy was completely disturbing: the constant familiarity Severus felt towards him. His Memory Charm was perfect: he couldn't remember even his own brother – and yet, this boy was so familiar. Why?

Something deep inside Severus knew the answer, and sometimes even his conscious mind caught some shreds of _that _answer – mostly in his dreams.

And Severus knew perfectly that the answer wasn't related to his brother or his deleted memories. It was something else – and it was almost waiting for its time to come forth. The latest piece of his inner puzzle had clicked to its place in the last, peaceful and student-free afternoon, when Severus went to the library to search for some books about human blood ingredients in painkiller potions and he had come across Madam Pince who directed him to the Arabic Mysticism section.

"It's Potions, not Divinations I'm looking for," Severus snorted indignantly.

"Well, my dear, I think you can find some proper books in that sections about human blood, however, you are right, they are not strictly about potion making. But I think you can learn an enormous amount from them. And, of course, they are not amongst the Arabic Mysticism books, but on the top of those shelves. Because most of them are in Arabic."

"Beautiful," muttered Severus, who didn't speak Arabic, and paced towards the mentioned section.

"It's your son's favourite place anyway," Madam Pince chattered happily. "He always studies there with his friends," Severus definitely was NOT interested in his 'son's' study habits, but he simply couldn't stop the librarian. "But mostly with that charming Granger girl. They are so similar to your brother and Miss Evans when they are together that I was wondering many times whether they would be stuck together like that two or not..." the woman's voice trailed off and Severus remained frozen on the spot.

His brother and _Miss Evans_? That little Muggle-born girl, who had been James Potter's wife later?

He had completely forgotten about his potions. He leaned on one of the shelves searching for something solid and firm. It was time to think through thoroughly his nephew's statements and his parentage.

First: the boy was a Snape. Not an adopted child, but a true Snape: the potion they had brewed in the hospital told him that clearly. He should be his brother's son as well, because the potion had showed that they were closely related.

But, knowing the boy's parentage, his brother had preferred Muggle-borns even when he was older.

_Then_ ithappened. That certain something had clicked into its place, but as Severus tried to catch it, it escaped from his conscious mind playing hide-and-seek with the slightly furious Potions Master. And he didn't like this kind of feeling.

But he still couldn't catch it.

His disturbing feelings didn't leave him during the whole breakfast, and now, he had to face the Aurors as well, because Patil ordered them to do their usual check amongst the students at the beginning of the new school year. Severus didn't like the process, but he accepted it as a necessity and hoped that Patil's new Aurors wouldn't be too biased against his house. But Patil warned them that there would be an investigation of the staff too because of the attack and Severus had many uncomfortable feelings towards that investigation considering the fact that he still held Voldemort's Dark Mark on his forearm. He knew precisely who would be the first suspected.

Because of the Aurors' investigations no lessons were presented – and, naturally, they didn't find anything by the end of the day. To Severus's utter surprise nobody suspected and arrested him, on the contrary, everybody treated him politely and with respect. After dinner, however, there was a soft knocking on his quarters' door.

"May I come in?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

Severus opened the door. The leader of the local Auror group stood in the corridor. Severus's expression turned into a sneer.

"I should have known," he murmured angrily, but let the Auror enter his quarters.

"So?" he asked as both sat down. "Further questions about my Mark? Or my loyalties?"

"No," the Auror shook his head. "It's about your son, Professor Snape."

"Oh," for a moment, Severus's blood froze. His son was not a Death Eater, was he? But before the panic could overwhelm him, the Auror went on.

"Well, it's not really about our investigation... I came to you as one father to the other."

Severus became thoroughly confused.

"I... I don't understand," he muttered in chagrin.

The Auror sighed and scratched his neck in embarrassment.

"Mr Snape, do you know that your son has several Concealment Charms on him?" he asked finally.

Severus swallowed the forming lump in his throat and nodded unsurely.

"I suspected," he croaked and paled. Now, he would now what the boy was hiding from him.

The Auror shifted in the chair and Severus saw that he forced his look to meet with the Potions Master's dark, intense gaze.

"I heard about your son's problem with the Aurors last year," '_Lucky you,_' Severus thought to himself. '_I don't know anything about those problems.'_ "So I decided to participate his short check to assure him about the fairness of the investigation," the Auror's gaze shifted to the floor, then he jerked his head and looked into Severus's eyes. "Do you know that he was – or still is – cutting himself?"

Severus's mouth fell open. What? Cutting himself? The boy? He had to force his mouth to shut, and resting his elbows on his knees he buried his face into his palms.

"Oh, my God," he groaned. "I didn't know," he added. "I didn't know," he muttered to himself.

"There are a lot of cuts in his hands, both hands, and many of them are fresh – they are not older than two or three months," the Auror's voice was soft as he went on. "I've seen several suicidal children, and I don't think he is one of them, not really. He doesn't want to kill himself, he is just... cutting himself. For punishment? For relief? I don't know, but I think you must speak with him and perhaps... you should bring him to a counsellor. You know... an accident, he cuts too deep..."

Severus shook his head in despair.

"I didn't know," he repeated again. "Are you sure?"

"Quite." After a short silence the Auror added, "I had been working with problematic children once. I wrote my thesis on self-harm and its roots. I saw a lot of scars before."

Severus stood up and tottered towards the kitchenette and poured a glass of water. His throat was dry with shock. When he returned his living room, the Auror was already on his feet.

"Sorry for... meddling," the man said and held out his hand. "But I think it was necessary to tell you. Good night, Professor Snape."

"Good night."

In the moment the door closed behind the man, Severus collapsed into his chair trying to figure out his own feelings and to locate the new elements in his internal puzzle about the boy. The man told the truth, he was sure. And he said that the boy's scars were two months old. Had he been cutting himself when Severus had lain in a coma at St Mungo's? Had it been a strange form of grief? Or had he cut himself after the Weasley boy's death? Like a kind of punishment? The boy blamed himself about his death, Severus knew. And Severus was sure that the Auror hadn't examined those scars too closely, because he didn't want to harass the boy, so those injuries could be very recent as well...

Severus felt lost. Had he known about these... tendencies before? Or... had the boy had similar tendencies before at all? Or was it all new after his Obliviation? He didn't know the answers to these questions, although deep inside he had _that _feeling again, the feeling that he missed something and everything around him was so evident! But he couldn't manage to catch it.

He went to bed irritated and unable to close his eyes and after a fitful night's sleep and a poor breakfast he stopped the boy when he was about to leave the Great Hall.

"I want to talk to you," he said. "Come to my office after..."

"Why are you so formal?" the boy's green eyes smiled at him. "I can visit you in our quarters and have tea with you after Arithmancy. At two."

"All right," Severus cast a scrutinising glance at the boy, and he noticed some signs of tiredness in those eyes, however, the face was still and fresh. "Did you have another nightmare?"

"How...?" the boy's eyes widened in astonishment.

Severus didn't answer, just lifted an elegant eyebrow and turned to leave.

"Stop," the boy grabbed his sleeve and chuckled. "Don't be so conceited. I know you're hiding something."

"Am I?" Severus asked back and couldn't help but smirk. "Meet me at two then. Don't be late."

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Harry had many evil forebodings about his afternoon visit with Severus, but he couldn't wait for Advanced Arithmancy to be finished so they could speak finally. Not to mention Ares: the boy ogled him so intently from behind, that Harry almost could feel the tiny holes his gaze bored into his back. Of course, Ares was suspicious, of course he had figured it out: they had learned last year during some of their Charms or Defence class (Harry didn't remember precisely where: the Patronus Charm had been covered in both classes) that 1. Patronuses were like fingerprints: everyone had his own Patronus, which was different from everybody else's, and, 2. Harry Potter had been and still was the only student, who could conjure a corporeal Patronus and 3. most of all, he had hidden his ability to produce a Patronus during the whole last year. And Ares was everything but stupid and he had drawn the only logical conclusion: the caster had to be Harry Potter, so Quietus Snape was Harry Potter. Brilliant.

Harry knew that sooner or later he had to face Ares and to explain him somehow that... what? Harry didn't have a clue what to say. The truth? Harry didn't know, and he braced himself to meet the Headmaster as soon as he could, probably today.

When the lesson finished, Harry packed all his books into his bag and noticed to himself that everybody in this class dragged a lot of books in their bags while his mates in Herbology barely had any schoolbooks with them. Well, and in that lesson there had been only the usual Hufflepuff-Gryffindor students, unlike Arithmancy or Potions, because very few people received a good enough mark on their OWLs to attend them, and so, the classes were completely mixed: every House had his members in them.

"Quietus, we have to talk," Ares stopped him in the door.

"Ares," Harry looked fiercely at his friend. "I don't have anything to..."

"Don't lie to me!" Ares hissed knotting his brows. "I saw..."

"Shut up!" Harry interrupted him. "I had enough problems because of you during the summer! Please, spare me some more for now!"

Ares cast a surprised look at him. He had never seen Harry so angry before. Or more so: he had never seen his friend being angry at all.

"I just..."

"No," Harry stated plainly. "It's not a matter of a friendly chat. I don't want and I'm not permitted to talk about anything connected to... what you saw. Do you understand?" his expression now matched Severus's.

Ares's face tensed.

"You are not my parent to order me around!"

"Yes, of course. And you are not my parent to do the same."

"When did I order you?"

"When you said we had to talk. I don't _have to _talk to anybody about anything. I _might _talk to you when I decide it right."

They stared at each other for a long, tense moment, then Ares shrugged and marched away.

"What was that?" Hermione stepped up to Harry.

"He saw my Patronus," Harry said so quietly that only Hermione could hear him. "And he figured out."

"Oh," Hermione's expression changed into a thoughtful one. "What do you want to do next?"

Harry shrugged.

"For now, I go to talk to Severus, and after... I think I will visit the Headmaster."

"Oh, that's a good idea."

"As always," Harry said and turned to the girl. "What about Ron now?"

"Ron?" Harry could see Hermione's confusion.

"Don't you want to reconsider your... refusal of last year?"

"Oh, that," Hermione lowered her head. "No, Quietus. I don't think I will ever reconsider that decision. You didn't see yourself that night. I thought you would die, I was absolutely frightened and... and... the mere memory of his cruelty makes it totally impossible for me even to think about me and Ron... that way."

"And what about a friendship?" Harry asked in thought.

"I don't know. Not yet," Hermione sighed. "And you? What do you think, can you be a friend of his?"

Harry sighed as well.

"I'm not sure. I tried, and you know, he apologised many times. But I was, and perhaps still am unable to forgive. He _knew_, Hermione, that I had scars, Percy told him, he knew and he used this special knowledge against me in the worst way possible." They stood in silence for some moments, when Harry, finally said good-bye. It was time to visit Severus.

The walk to the dungeons was short, and Harry soon found himself standing in front of their quarters pressing his index finger to the usual, white dot. The door opened silently.

"Hello, Severus," he greeted the man who was sitting in his favourite chair, his eyes staring unfocused at the empty fireplace.

The man just nodded in greeting and Harry knew the cause: he was still uncomfortable with calling him by his name. Harry dropped his bag unceremoniously and sat facing him.

"You wanted to talk to me," he looked at Severus expectantly, noticing the deep lines of tiredness and anxiousness in his face.

"Yes," the man inhaled deeply and summoned a tea with a quick flip of his wand. As the teacups appeared on the table, he took one in his hands and pressed it between his two hands as if he wanted to warm his cold fingers. Harry mimicked his movement and for some long, stressful minutes they sat in deep silence.

"Yesterday, I had a visitor."

Harry didn't know how to react at this. He lowered his cup and with a nod he encouraged the man to continue.

"And he mentioned to me a thing I... want to know."

"Who was he?"

"The leader of the Auror team."

Harry closed his eyes, because he felt the world beginning to whirl around him.

"Are you all right?" he heard Severus's slightly worried voice and nodded. He was all right, wasn't he?

"What do you want to ask?" he asked weakly.

"He mentioned to me that you had some... problems with the Aurors last year. Can you enlighten me about these... problems?"

Harry felt relief wash over his body and opened his eyes.

"Well, it was not a big thing," he shrugged. "They just wanted to have some proof that I'm a Death Eater and when they didn't find anything they tried to drug me with Veritaserum. I resisted taking it, then they cursed me and I had to spend a few hours in the Hospital Wing. You and Dumbledore made an official report about the abuse and they left me alone after that."

"Which curse did they use?"

"Tormenta. Oh, and there was some physical abuse, but nothing serious."

"Physical abuse." Severus's voice was cold and sharp. "And you say that it's not serious."

"Well," Harry gulped. "The curse was much worse..." his voice trailed off.

"Why did they want you to take Veritaserum?"

Harry felt as nervousness slipped into his throat. This question was too... close. He had to lie again.

"Because you were considered to be my father and they knew about your past... and so they thought like father like son..." well, it was a half-truth at least.

"The bastards!" Severus muttered under his breath and his jail tensed. "It's so like them: curses, beatings, Veritaserum..."

"My father was an Auror as well," Harry decided to turn the conversation towards less stressful topics. "But he quit the corps after the first month. He couldn't support their aggression any more."

"I see," Severus apparently didn't even heart the last sentence. It was a bad sign about what would happen. "But yesterday I heard another thing, Quietus."

As Harry heard his name aloud he knew that he was lost. He braced himself against the worst and looked at Severus with open and focused eyes.

"Yes?" he even asked.

"I know that you wear Glamouries on you, Quietus. I realised it long ago. But yesterday, the Aurors cast a Revelo on you."

"And they saw my scars and they reported it to you," Harry finished Severus's sentence. When the man nodded, Harry sighed. "And now, you want me to tell you about them."

"Precisely."

"I had an accident," Harry began, but Severus interrupted him.

"When?"

"Last summer."

"I want to see them."

"No," Harry got frightened and jumped to his feet. "No."

"Stop," in the next moment Severus stood next to him holding his upper arm in a strong grasp. "You won't run away now. I want to see those scars."

"Why?" Harry cried and tried to tug his arm away from Severus's stronger hand.

"The Auror told me that you are cutting yourself."

"Rubbish!" Harry yelled and made another tentative attempt to break free.

"And he told me that your scars are not older than two months."

"He was wrong!" Harry fought, but now, Severus was pointing his wand to him. Harry's throat tightened, but he pressed out, "If you cast any spell on me now, I will never come near you again. Ever!"

"Quietus, look..."

"You don't have the right to force me!"

"I just want to help!"

"I don't need help! I'm not cutting myself! I have nothing to show you!" Harry bellowed from the top of his lungs. "And let my arm go! Let me go!" with a final tug he freed his arm, and kicking his chair back, he broke free from Severus and ran to the door. Severus right after him. Harry ripped the door open, but Severus grabbed his arm again.

"Stop!"

"Let me go! My scars are not your business!" Harry shrieked, and kicked towards Severus, but he was the stronger. He seized Harry and tossed Harry inside locking the door with a quick spell. In that moment the panic finally overwhelmed Harry. He felt as his throat gave a painful churn, and the next moment he was kneeling and retching on the floor.

The strong arm somehow disappeared, and a very thin and fearful voice asked him from behind,

"What happened?"

"I vomited," Harry said dryly. "I thought it was obvious."

Severus didn't answer, just left the room for a moment. When he returned, he removed the vomit from the ground and kneeled next to Harry and cleared his face with a warm, wet towel.

"What happened?" he asked again.

"I think I had a panic attack. Nothing you have to worry about," Harry answered, his voice still shaky.

"I'm sorry I attacked you," Severus whispered. "I just wanted to help."

They stayed in silence until Harry's trembling ebbed somewhat.

"Severus," Harry looked up. "I swear I'm not cutting myself. Just... just... I can't talk about it," he shook his head. "And Dumbledore knows about my scars. You can go and ask him."

Severus cast a new, scrutinising look at him.

"Something is going on, I can feel it. You are planning something, or better to say you are hiding something from me. Aren't you?"

Harry didn't answer, just stood up.

"Let me go now."

Harry could feel that Severus wanted to ask or tell something, but finally, he nodded and removed the locking spell. He was still kneeling when Harry left the quarters.

He closed the door behind himself and with a deep sigh he leaned against the wall.

"What scars were you babbling about, Snape?" an irritating voice came from Harry's side.

Harry looked up. Malfoy. Bloody hell. The one person he most definitely didn't want to see.

"It's none of your business, Malfoy. Sod off!"

"Language, Quiet!" Malfoy said mimicking Severus. The next moment Harry's wand was pointed to his throat.

"Look, Malfoy. I don't care whether we are relatives or not, if you don't stop your idiot snooping around I will hex you!"

"Words..." Malfoy smirked.

"Are you having fun, Malfoy?" Harry asked and a sudden idea emerged in his mind.

"You could say that," the blonde boy answered and his smirk grew even wider as he felt Harry's wand trembling with – he though – uncertainty.

"_Gelasmus_," Harry muttered, and suddenly, Malfoy's eyes widened in pain as he began to laugh uncontrollably.

Harry stood over him coldly for some long moments. But he remembered Severus's words about the spell's possible consequences all too well. And so, when he turned to leave, he freed the whimpering boy with a Finite Incantatum spell.

"Wait until I catch you, Snape!" he could hear the cry of Malfoy echoing after him. He didn't even answer.

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Next day's Potions class, Harry's first Advanced Potions class began in its usual way: door banging open, Severus marching in, robes billowing, words echoing. Harry stood next to Hermione, instead of Neville, who chose Parvati to work with, and Harry suspected the reason behind it. In reality, the Patil twins somehow changed during the summer: they were prettier and somehow more adult, and Harry could see in the common room that Parvati talked to Hermione instead of Lavender, although last year the two girls had seemed inseparable. Lavender still was a little idiotic as she was snickering and chattering with her other female housemates after dinner.

Parvati had become more serious and less talkative, and her behaviour was really pleasant in Harry's opinion – and apparently, in Neville's opinion as well. Harry looked at Hermione as he sat next to her, and Hermione winked at him and both smiled. Neville was just perfect to the tall girl: he had grown very tall during the summer, his face had lost its familiar roundness and bocame sharper, his cheekbones and brows more accentuated, and even more, in the morning, Harry had caught him twice already in the bathroom shaving – and he felt a little envious. He didn't need to shave yet.

"Neville is quite a good looking guy," Hermione whispered and the pang of envy hit Harry again. He knew precisely that Hermione was right: Neville had become a handsome man, and he still was an ugly, little boy with a slightly greasy hair and a big nose, which wasn't smaller than Severus's, just straighter. The only person who had considered him handsome was Leah... Or not, it was just a game, a stupid game with him, and still, he remembered Leah's eyes as she looked at him, and then he had been sure that the girl liked him. He felt his heart wrenching and his breath caught in his chest for a moment.

"What's the problem?" he heard Hermione's concerned voice. He looked up at her.

"Nothing," he muttered. "Just... Leah..."

Understanding radiated from Hermione's face and she nodded.

"Do you miss him?" she asked.

"I..." he couldn't continue.

"Mr Snape, Miss Granger, could you finish your idle chattering? The lesson has already begun."

Both flushed as they looked at the Potions Master.

"Oh, and five points from Gryffindor for not paying attention in class."

Harry felt a small wave of anger but he didn't show it, just turned towards his uncle.

"Finally," Severus smirked. Malfoy snickered and Harry suddenly wanted to cast another Gelasmus spell on him.

Severus didn't say a word to Malfoy, he began to explain the necessary knowledge about the sixth year advanced potions they would have to brew and after some moments everybody began to scribble frantically.

Much later, they started to prepare some of those fire-based potions Severus had been explaining about. The ingredients and the potion were volatile, so Severus warned them to be very careful, and Harry could see that he looked at Neville when he said that. Neville didn't shake or avert his glance, he looked at his professor without fear or shame.

Severus felt uncomfortable, Harry could see as he took some dragon teeth and began to pulverize them while Hermione started a fire under the cauldron.

They were almost finished with the brewing process, when Malfoy finally decided that the time of revenge had arrived. When Severus leaned closer to Neville and Parvati's potion, Malfoy, with a quick movement lit a Filibuster firework. The firework began to fizz and sputter. Knowing he had only seconds, Malfoy straightened up, took aim, and lobbed it into the air; it landed right in Harry and Hermione's cauldron, which began to bubble dangerously.

Harry could see as the firework approached their cauldron and grasping his own wand from the desk he cried-

"_Evanesco!_" and the life-threatening potion disappeared to his utter relief.

Severus turned to them, but by then Harry was standing in front of Malfoy, his wand pointed at the other boy's neck again.

"I warned you, Malfoy..." he groaned, but then a quiet and thoroughly dismayed voice crumbled his world into ruins.

"Potter..."

Severus didn't mean to say it aloud, but he couldn't help it. When he saw the boy turning from his cauldron toward his fellow classmate, he caught the familiar expression on the boy's face, and his movement… and all of a sudden, the information, which were buried deep inside him emerged and everything clicked in place.

"Potter..." he whispered, and the boy very slowly lowered his wand and turned to him.

None of them said a word, but as Severus looked into the familiar green eyes every bit of his uncertainty disappeared. The boy was Potter.

He didn't know what to do.

"Revelo!" Severus heard the spell from behind the boy, and he knew that Malfoy cast it, but he still was in deep shock. Potter.

In reality, with the muttered spell he was waiting for the familiar Potter face to appear with the well-known scar, but only the scar appeared, a scar on an unmistakably Snape face, and other things: red lines on the neck, which most probably continued under the robes, but Snape still couldn't move.

"Potter," Malfoy said, and Potter turned to him.

The class was gaping for air. The Granger girl had paled violently. _So she knew_, Severus thought to himself.

"Harry?" Longbottom asked.

"Potter?" somehow, Nott didn't seem very surprised...

Potter didn't say a word. Slowly, very slowly, he turned to the door and marched out. But before he could close it behind him, he stopped and looked back.

"The show is over," he said and closed the door.

Severus still was unable to move.

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Next: as soon as Barbara sends me :-) She is working on it.

Enahma


	8. Crumbling world

Betaed by Barbara

I hope the next part will be on by Thursday, and the another by the weekend.

Now, I have no warnings, I just want to thank you that enormous number of reviews – and an IMPORTANT thing:

I will finish this story! I won't leave you without doing it, be calm.

And... perhaps I will return once. Just... I need a holiday. A very long holiday... :-)

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**Chapter 8 – Crumbling world**

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It took many long moments for Severus to regain some portion of his composure.

"The lesson is over. Pack your things and get out," he growled at the students, who began to order their things in a hurry. "And twenty points from Slytherin, Mr Malfoy," he added coldly.

Malfoy squeaked aloud.

"Twenty? Why? I didn't cast any forbidden spells!"

Severus swirled around and stepped up to the slightly alarmed boy.

"According to the school rules casting a Disrobing Spell onto a fellow student is NOT allowed," he hissed and Malfoy recoiled a little bit.

"I didn't cast a Disrobing Spell, sir," he said. "I cast a Re..."

"Enough! Ten points from Slytherin for your cheek, Mr Malfoy and detention with Mr Filch this evening," surprised glances from all over the classroom. "And I enlighten you Mr Malfoy that the prohibition of using a Disrobing spell is to protect people's privacy against other's preying – and the spell you now cast is nothing but preying as well." Severus suddenly realised that everybody was staring at them. "Oh, and that goes for everybody in this school."

The last sentence had its effect on the students: in one minute the classroom was empty, except for... except for Potter's belonging, which were lying abandoned on the boy's desk.

Potter's belongings. The world suddenly whirled around him and he tottered to a desk.

Potter.

Thoughts flooded his mind, and feelings pressed his chest: many, many thoughts and feelings, the opposites of each other. The first feeling was shock, the second was pain – the pain of being betrayed. The boy had betrayed him: his trust, his acceptance... And a smidgeon of guilt: he had no right to reveal the boy's identity in front of everybody – but he didn't do it willingly, he just couldn't help himself... And later disgust and resentment: he had touched the blasted Potter boy, he had offered him comfort, he had held him and helped him... Potter... the son of his archenemy, the disgusting and perfect James Potter and his little Muggleborn wife – how typical of them!

And Albus! Albus had deceived him, his sin was greater than Potter's, because it had always been Albus, who had manipulated the stupid boy!

Damn the man! And damn the boy as well! In a sudden surge of anger Severus hit the desk with his fist, and kicked a chair to the opposite wall, where it crashed into a shelf, and shattered pieces of vials began to spread all over the room, but Severus didn't bother. He was raging and storming and after five minutes the classroom looked like it had been attacked by a group of rampaging hippogriffs.

The only desk, which Severus left in peace was that of Potter. He didn't even want to look at it. Just after his rage lessened somewhat he called for a house elf and ordered him to bring the brat's things back to his room, and as an afterthought he added:

"And remove his things from my quarters, please." The elf nodded and disappeared with a pop. 

Now, the room was finally vacated of the disgusting little brat's belongings. And it would remain vacated! Severus didn't care what or who the Potter brat was, the boy would NOT enter this classroom again, NEVER!

A new wave of rage fogged his mind, and Severus couldn't even think for a short moment.

That blasted, damned brat! And Albus! They had used him, like he had been just a pawn in their chess game, or a piece of a puzzle, something, instead of someone, a human being with feelings and sense!

He was about to throw another nasty curse at the furniture, when the door opened and Albus entered the room.

"HOW DARE YOU?" Severus bellowed without greeting the older man. "HOW DID YOU DARE?"

"Severus, please," Albus said in a calming tone, which only enraged the Potions Master even more.

"I'M NOT INTERESTED IN YOUR APOLOGIES! GET OUT! NOW!" he shrieked and stepped menacingly towards his ex-friend.

"Severus!" this time the Headmaster's voice was firmer and stronger, but Severus simply ignored it.

"No, Albus! I don't want to listen to your fairy tales any more!" he yelled, and hit another desk with his fist. "And I don't want to see the brat any more!"

"Severus, calm down!"

"NO!" Suddenly, the usual, expressionless mask fell back to his face. "No, Albus. I refuse to take Mr Potter into my Advanced Potions class, and I refuse to take care of him any more. I've already asked a house elf to remove everything that belonged to him from my rooms. As soon as I get out of here, I will change the lock on my personal rooms as well as my office."

"You can't do it, Severus," the old man sighed.

"Of course I can do it, Headmaster!" Severus stood up and looked into the other's face. "And I WILL do it! Now!" he turned to leave.

"Severus, stop!" this was an order, Severus heard clearly, but he didn't want to obey. Halting for a moment at the door, he added,

"If you want to fire me, Albus, just do it," he turned his face to the elderly face. "And from now on I'm not a member of your Order any more. You can use my Manor as long as I'm here." But when he wanted to move, he noticed angrily that he couldn't. His legs were rooted to the floor, and a second spell of the Headmaster silenced him.

"Enough, Severus. First, you can't refuse to allow Quietus to attend your classes. He has the proper mark to attend that class. Second, you can't shut him out of your life. He still is your nephew, and he needs you. Third, you can't leave the Order. We need you, your skills and sharp wit. Your help." with a wave, he freed Severus of the spells. The younger man cast a despising look at him.

"I know where my place is, Headmaster. I'm nothing but a murderer who has to do everything he is instructed to do. Is that what you were thinking?"

"No, Severus," Dumbledore's face contorted in pain. "No."

"No? Okay, then I WON'T accept Potter in any way. And I WON'T participate in the Order, although I will help Madam Pomfrey's work with my potions as a teacher of this school and I will swear secrecy about the Order. And you know what, Albus? I don't trust you any more. Good bye."

Severus went back to his quarters and stood in front of the door. With a quick gesture of his wand he pressed his index finger to the white dot and murmured some locking spells. Entering the rooms he checked whether the elves had removed the Potter brat's stuff. To his utter relief he couldn't see anything that belonged to the brat, even the photos were gone, only the second bed in his bedroom showed that somebody else had lived here, but Severus removed it with a firm Evanesco.

Finishing his tasks in his quarters, he returned to the ruined classroom, and fixed its state with some quick repairing spells, ready for another lesson.

Second year, Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff. They, apparently, hadn't heard anything about the previous hour's events, and Severus was very grateful. Probably it would be his last normal class that week, the only disturbing element of the lesson was that he didn't know his students he had been teaching for a year.

But the seventh year Advanced Potions class was much more complicated.  Severus saw on their faces that they had already heard about the early morning revelation, but none of them was brave enough to ask him. Severus smirked when he saw the angry expression on the only Gryffindor's face: Miss Bell was almost seething in anger – oh, and most surprisingly, she wasn't the only one. Mr Moon, one of his Slytherins seemed very agitated.

It was interesting to see how well the blasted Potter brat had taken advantage of his relationship with Severus. It just enraged the man further.

So, by the end of the class he was angry again.

His anger didn't ebb while he was climbing up towards the great hall to have lunch, and he felt the whole school's attention turning to him. He stalked to the table, sat down and dug in without a second glance.

Nobody said a word to him.

When he felt the attention fading, he cast a quick glance around.

The boy was missing.

An ugly smirk appeared on his lips.

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Harry's self control left him right after he closed the door of the Potions classroom. Bile rose up his throat, panic ran through his veins, and his legs gave out, and he started to run recklessly towards the Headmaster's office. But somehow, he knew that not even the Headmaster had a good solution to his problem.

Severus would reject him. It was crystal clear to him. And now, they wouldn't be shut together to somehow work out their differences and dislikes, and honestly, Harry didn't have any dislike any more towards the Potions Master.

He didn't know the current password to Dumbledore's office, so he stopped in front of the gargoyle and leaned on it tiredly, pondering the possible future effects of the morning's revelation on his life and relationship with Severus. But he didn't have time to think deeper, because the statue suddenly leapt aside, and Dumbledore stepped out.

"I felt your presence, Quietus," he smiled at the boy, but his expression darkened seeing Harry's painful face.

"You can call me Harry, Headmaster," Harry smiled bitterly. "I think in half an hour the whole wizarding world will know that the Boy-Who-Lived lived again."

"What happened?"

"Severus somehow guessed it – and Malfoy cast a Revelo on me..." his voice trailed off, and touched the exposed famous scar. "I think he will be very angry with us, but mostly with me."

"Don't worry, I go and talk to him. Everything will be all right," the Headmaster tried to console him, but Harry shook his head.

"We should have told him. It's too late now."

"I don't think so..."

"I know him Headmaster, perhaps better than you. He's too emotion-driven and we have lost his trust. And I don't know if we can regain it somehow."

Dumbledore cast a reassuring smile at him.

"Everything be all right," he repeated.

"And my façade?" Harry asked. "Now, Voldemort will have tons of reasons to kill me!"

"We have to take care of that later. First, I want to talk to Severus. Meet me after lunch."

Harry nodded and they departed.

Harry didn't know how he got to Gryffindor Tower: he couldn't recall the walk from the gargoyle to his bed, and now, he was sitting in his four-poster, his boots next to the bed, his knees against his chest, his face buried in his knees, and something inside felt so empty...

Unexpectedly, a house elf appeared next to Harry's bed with a small pop, and put his bag and Potions books on his bed, smiling.

"Master Snape ordered to take Quietus Snape's bag to his room," the creature squeaked happily and disappeared.

For a moment, Harry didn't know what to think about this gesture. Was it a sign of Severus's care? Or right the opposite? He didn't know, but he caught some dots of different potions on his brand new books. Harry furrowed his brows in thought. What could have happened in the dungeons after his departure? He reached his hand towards his book, but other pops sounded around him, and five elves appeared next to his bed, again, and began to pack some things into his trunk and cupboard.

"Stop!" Harry cried at them. "What are you doing?"

A female elf turned to him, and Harry suddenly recognised her. Winky.

"Master Snape ordered us to empty his rooms of your stuff, sir," she said. "He was very angry."

The blood drained out of Harry's face.

"But... stop! It's wrong! You have no right to remove my clothes..."

"The owner of that quarters is Master Snape not Quietus Snape," Winky sighed. "And he is the older wizard. We have to obey him."

"But..." Harry suddenly felt suffocated and unable to utter a word. 'It's wrong!' something shrieked inside him as he saw the elves packing and rearranging his robes and linens, together with a bunch of books and – photos. Severus's, the _old _Severus's photos of him. Harry's heart clenched and he had to concentrate on his breathing if he didn't want to truly suffocate.

He straightened his legs and sat on the edge of the bed. He had to go to the loo. He didn't want to live. To think. To breathe. To love. To feel. To touch. He didn't want his life, no, no, not any more.

Before he could take a step, he was kneeling and vomiting again, like last night. But now, he could feel hot tears on his face, and he could see them falling into the mess Harry had retched out, and he had to put his hands on the floor, if he didn't want to follow them.

"Quietus Snape, sir, needs any help, sir?" Winky's worrying voice sounded next to him.

Taking a few deep breaths, Harry somehow managed to choke out.

"Winky, please call Dobby. Tell him Harry Potter needs him."

"Yes, sir. Understand, sir," the elf said and disappeared.

Still trembling, Harry tried to stand up, but his limbs refused to cooperate, and his stomach grumbled again. He was kneeling there on all fours over his own vomit, shaking like a madman. Just beautiful, he thought to himself, and felt his tears to attack again.

He gaped for air again, but this time, he really couldn't breathe. The sob, together with the retching closed his throat, and after some long minutes of fight, the world turned black around him.

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When he opened his eyes the first thing he saw was a pair of huge orbs looking directly at him.

"Harry Potter is awake!" Dobby cried out in joy, and smiled widely. "Harry Potter is back at Hogwarts, he is back to his friends, he is back to Dobby!"

Harry closed his eyes again, and sadly noticed that he had a terrible headache, which was just fuelled by Dobby's loud yelling.

"Please, Dobby, don't yell," he whispered, and the elf halted in half-movement.

"Dobby is hurting Harry Potter, sir!" the creature almost shrieked in sorrow. "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

Harry didn't have enough energy to order the shrieking elf around, instead he pulled his pillow over his head, and curled into a foetal position.

Somehow, seeing his pain, Dobby went quiet, very quiet, and Harry could hear as the elf began to pack things, and later he cleared the pavement as well.

Later, the elf sat on his bed, and softly asked,

"Is it true that Master Snape is Harry Potter's father?"

Harry sighed and tucked the pillow under his head.

"No, Dobby. He is not my father. He is the older brother of my father," he explained calmly.

"And where is Harry Potter's father, sir? Dobby goes and fetch Harry Potter's father for Harry Potter!"

This time, the pain was much more stronger. To fetch his father? Which father? James Potter or Quietus Snape? The pain was sharp like a dagger in his chest.

"You can't fetch him, Dobby. He's dead." Harry bored his face into the pillow and heard his own, howling voice through the piece of bedding. "He is dead."

Dark... Everything was dark, and he was weeping and sobbing into his pillow. He, Harry Potter, a sixteen years old boy crying like a baby, the hope of the wizarding world, the son of the greatest light wizard of the century, the number one enemy of the Dark Lord – was a weakling, a good-for-nothing piece of flesh, and hurt, everything hurt so much.

Dobby moved closer him, tugged a blanket on his trembling form and cast a heating charm on him. Some moments later he disappeared, just to re-appear with a mug of hot chocolate and some cakes. When Harry lifted his head, the elf cleaned his face with a soft cloth and helped him into a sitting position. He almost smiled as he saw Harry reaching towards the nightstand, but instead of the mug, he grabbed the only framed photo standing there: Harry and Severus playing chess. He felt the howling raising in his throat again.

Then, with a loud boom his room's door opened up and Hermione ran to him, and embraced him without hesitation.

"It took some time to break through the anti-girl wards of your dormitory," she explained as she held Harry tightly to her chest. "But I did it somehow nevertheless."

"Severus hates me. He kicked me out of his life," Harry said in a hollow voice, the photo still in his hand.

"He will come to his senses," Hermione tightened his embrace, and Harry felt his tears attacking again.

"I don't know," he whispered. "I don't think so..."

"Let it out, Harry. We are alone here. Nobody can see you..." Hermione murmured into his ears and began to rock him slowly-slowly, and Harry felt the sorrow weighing on his shoulders somehow lessen, and looked again at the photo, and he couldn't stop... Disgusting, weak and disgusting thing it was to weep here and play the cry-baby, but Harry felt so lost...

"Why me?" he chocked out. "Why is it always me?"

"Because you are stronger than us," Hermione whispered back.

"I'm weaker than you," Harry protested.

"You are grieving, Quiet, you are not weak. Just let it out and everything will be better."

The soft words broke through Harry's barriers, but he didn't have any tears left to weep, so he let Hermione rock him waiting for his choking to calm.

Suddenly, another thought occurred to Harry.

"Where are the others? And what will I tell them?" he asked frightened.

"This is lunchtime. They are in the Great Hall, and I think Dumbledore is about to make an announcement. And finally, you can tell everybody the truth."

"With Severus's rejection in the end, right?" Harry replied resentfully.

"This is not the end of your story, Quiet. Come, drink your chocolate. I cast a heating spell on it."

Harry drank the hot drink and stood up. Strange. After drinking the really hot chocolate he felt even colder than before. Something in his chest was just... just like a piece of ice. Was it his stomach?

"I have to go to the Headmaster. Want to escort...?" he asked, but he couldn't finish the question: he felt the sudden stomach ache again and he had to struggle forcefully not to throw up. He pressed his palm to his mouth and bent down.

"Oh, no," Hermione whispered and dragged Harry cautiously towards the bathroom, but they didn't reach their destination. Just as Hermione opened the door and drew Harry inside, the boy couldn't restrain it any more. He fell on his knees and threw up. On Hermione, directly.

It didn't take long: he had only the chocolate in his stomach.

"I'm sorry," he muttered and looked at Hermione.

To his surprise the girl just sat on the floor in front of him, and her shoulders were shaken by strong giggles. Seeing her, Harry's bad mood eased somehow, and Hermione suddenly erupted into a strong laughter, even her tears came out, and after a few minutes Harry couldn't help but join her. It wasn't a happy laughter, not at all, just another way to let go the tragic burden that pressed down on them. Finally, Hermione regained her composure and stood up.

"I go and change my clothes. Wait for me in the common room. I will go with you to the Headmaster."

"Okay," Harry sighed, and felt that perhaps he would have the strength to walk from the Gryffindor Tower to the gargoyle.

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The smirk disappeared from Severus's face when the Headmaster stood up. The Potions Master suddenly knew what would happen, but it was too risky to escape now – he would seem a coward, if he did it, so he remained in his place, his head lifted, staring at the students straight, without fear or remorse.

"As you surely heard, this morning there was a little accident in the sixth year Advanced Potions class and I'm sure much guessing and gossip is circulating by now. It's not my part to tell you the whole story, you have to ask your mate, I want to share you only the most important details: yes, it's true that one of your friends, Quietus Snape is really the boy you know as Harry Potter. It's not true, however, that your professor, Severus Snape is his father. Quietus Snape's father was your professor's brother, he died sixteen years ago, before Harry's birth. Later, James Potter adopted him, and he grew up as his son. Last summer, after their escape from Voldemort's prison, professor Snape took him back into the Snape family. This is all you have to know about him. And one more thing: don't harass him with questions. He has gone through too many things in the last months. Thank you."

The Headmaster sat back, and Severus, forcing a short polite expression to his face, stood up and strode out of the great hall ignoring the students' surprised voices.

Yes, Dumbledore's short explanation confirmed many suspicions Severus had had before about the Potter boy, but it didn't erased his main suspicion he had towards the Headmaster and the idiotic boy. What if they had been cheating him for two years? Potter couldn't be his relative. Just couldn't. Yes, there was the blood check, which seemed to confirm the two's statements – but what if they somehow managed to alter the boy's blood? Or the examining devices? Or something else? How many times was he Obliviated? Was it true that he had Obliviated himself or some lie as well? He shook his head in anger.

He would never trust Dumbledore again. He didn't want to trust him again. He felt cheated, betrayed, laughed at, rejected and used.

Damn! Damn! Damn! It was enough! He would never again be anyone's pawn! He had apparently saved Potter's neck from Voldemort's grasp, let it be enough! Well, if THAT tale was true. Only the Greatest Bastard could confirm that.

No, Severus decided he wouldn't think about the boy or Albus for several days. He wanted some air, some freedom to think.

And most definitely, he didn't want the boy back.

Blasted wretched idiot! How could he think he would lead Severus astray? How could he think he would have forgiveness after all those lies? No, most definitely no.

No forgiveness.

Everybody could go to hell. Him included.

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"So, he doesn't want me in his Advanced Potions class," Harry somehow blurted out.

"Yes," Dumbledore sighed. "I tried to force him..."

Harry shook his head.

Heavy silence fell to the room, and Harry suddenly felt Dumbledore had some more bad news for him. He braced himself and lifted his head.

"Yes, sir?" Hermione glanced at him curiously. She didn't understand Harry's question, Dumbledore, on the contrary, comprehended it perfectly.

"Two days ago, after I rearranged my files and documents I let the house elves in to clean my office. And," his eyes went cloudy, "they found Severus's wand."

"But he had his wand, Headmaster!" Harry cried out in disbelief.

"Yes, because I arranged him one when he still stayed in the hospital. After his release from arrest, all the things, which were with him were restrained in the Ministry as an evidence against Lucius Malfoy, the wand as well – because it was Malfoy's and not his."

A sharp intake. Harry's stomach made another uneasy tug.

"Oh, no, no, no, nononono," he began to tremble again. Hermione blinked in chagrin.

"And...?" she asked.

"I think professor Snape left it here just before he went after Harry to save him."

Hermione was very smart and fast, but this time she simply couldn't understand what the Headmaster was talking about.

"It means, Hermione, that he cast that Memory Charm with Malfoy's wand. With a strange wand," he jerked up his head and shuddered. "It means, Hermione, that he will never regain his memories."

"But surely..."

"Quie- I mean Harry is right Miss Granger. To lift a Memory Charm is an extremely hard task to do, but to lift..."

"It was your topic last year, wasn't it?" Hermione suddenly turned to Harry. "You wrote your Memory essay about the lifting of a Memory Charm?"

Harry nodded. "Yes," he sighed and bent over. "Well, apparently things always can be even worse," he muttered, but he had no strength to cry. "It means then, that I have my good, old Potions professor who hates me, and who refused to accept me into his class."

"Yes," Dumbledore lowered his head.

"All right," Harry stood up. "Then I won't attend those classes."

"Quiet, I think you will need that class later. You are a natural in Potions, you can't abandon it so easily!"

"I won't fight him," Harry said firmly. "I can study Potions in the library if I want. I don't mind. I have six other advanced classes to attend. That's enough. Many sixth years have only three or four," he added. Hermione nodded defeated.

"You know, Quiet," she said.

"Harry, I think tomorrow we will have to go to the Ministry for some paperwork about you, your parentage, your true age, your future name and I think we have to look for a guardian as well."

Harry's shoulders slumped even more.

"Yeah," he muttered weakly. "I don't think we can convince Severus to be my guardian after all."

"We can appoint you a temporary guardian, if Severus..."

Harry shrugged.

"I think that's pointless. He won't claim me. And Sirius will be my guardian willingly. That's for sure," he smiled sadly. "We had our differences, but I don't think he will reject the idea."

"All right, Harry. I think you should visit the Infirmary and ask Madam Pomfrey for some Calming Potions."

"Yes, sir," Harry turned to the door.

"And Harry..." Dumbledore called after him. Harry turned around and looked at him. "It's my fault. I'm so sorry, my dear boy."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, but opened them again.

"It's pointless to debate this topic, Headmaster. This is the present situation, no matter who caused it. The blame is not only on you: Severus and I have our faults and mistakes. I don't blame you, sir."

And that was true. Harry didn't blame the Headmaster. Although he hadn't agreed with him, he realised later, that the old man had many things to take care about, and he had misjudged the situation.

"Perhaps if I had had more time with him he would have begun to like me again," Harry added in thought. "But I didn't. And he – he doesn't like me. Yesterday, we even had a fight, about my scars. If I had known..." he waved dismissingly. "I didn't know."

"Harry, give him time," Dumbledore whispered weakly.

"I will try, Headmaster."

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The Gryffindor common room was crowded almost like every Gryffindor was sitting in it. Well, perhaps every Gryffindor was there, Harry decided as Hermione and he climbed through the Fat Lady's portrait.

One moment later he realised that Ron was nowhere to be seen.

After a long silence it was Neville, who began to speak.

"So, you are Harry," he said tentatively.

Harry lifted his silky hair from his forehead. The famous scar was clearly visible on the pale skin. The sight of his scar had the effect of a mild electroshock on his housemates.

"So, it's true..."

"Unbelievable..."

"Harry's alive..."

"He survived You-Know-Who again..."

Harry folded his arms over his chest and cast a look around.

"So?" he looked at them.

"And are you... are you _really _Sn... I mean professor Snape's relative?" Dean blurted out, but Harry saw that many had the same question. Dumbledore had already informed Harry about what he had announced in the Great Hall after lunch.

"Yes, I am his nephew," he answered calmly.

"So you... you _really_ look like this?" Dean pointed at Harry, who smiled in return.

"I'll allow you to cast on me any kind of Revealing Charm you like, if you want proof. This is my true appearance."

"But you look like _him_!" Lavender cried out. Somebody laughed, and even Harry's smile widened.

"Of course. He and I inherited my grandmother's facial and body structure. And his brother looked like him as well."

"Have you ever met your real father?" Colin asked, but his peers silenced him-

"Dumbledore said that his father died before his birth, idiot!"

"Yeah," Colin muttered. "But then... was it really necessary to tell him about his father? I mean he had a dead father already..."

Colin was an idiot, but he had a point, Harry noticed, so he answered him before the others could yell at him.

"Nobody told me about him. I was in Voldemort's prison with Se... professor Snape and somehow we figured it out."

"He didn't know?" Colin's eyes almost fell out in surprise.

"No, he didn't. It was my mother's secret." '_And Dumbledore's,_'he added to himself.

"Why?"

Harry blushed slightly.

"She was pregnant with me when my father was killed. She didn't want scandal. One of her friends, James Potter offered to marry her."

"Your father was killed?" Seamus asked with a sad expression. "Who killed him?"

"Voldemort," Harry said simply.

"Oh, my God," somebody whispered.

"And why did you look like James Potter if he wasn't your real father?" Neville somehow regained a part of his composure after the previous shock.

"Because of the Adoption Spell," Hermione explained.

"And who are you now?" Lavender asked.

"Pardon me?" Harry looked at her confused.

"What's your name?"

"Oh," Harry smiled again. "Harold Quietus Snape. Nice to meet you."

Somebody laughed.

"But how do you want us to call you?" Lavender went on.

Harry shrugged.

"Quietus or Harry... it doesn't matter. I answer to both names."

The tension of the room began to dissipate. The usual buzz of conversations filled the room again. Harry answered some more questions, and excused himself and climbed to the sixth year boy's dorm. To face Ron.

There was darkness in the bedroom, and for a moment Harry doubted if Ron was there. But then, Ron's four-poster's emitted a quiet creak and Harry knew that Ron was indeed there, hiding.

"Ron?" he asked softly. "Are you here?"

"Why did you tell Hermione? Why didn't you tell me?" he heard a quiet, accusing voice from Ron's direction. Harry became slightly angry.

"I didn't tell her. She found out by herself."

"Really?" Ron's voice now was bitter and cynical.

"Yes," Harry replied sharply. "Right after you almost killed me," Harry whirled around to leave the room, but Ron's sudden plea stopped him.

"Er... Harry, wait!" Ron opened the draperies of his bed. "I... I..."

"I'm still Severus's relative, Ron. That fact didn't changed just because my true identity was revealed. I'm still a descendant of a dark family, I'm still related to an ex-Death Eater, and I'm still that boy you remember from last year," he said and looked at Ron seriously. "I didn't come here to inform to you that nothing changed. Everything has changed, Ron."

"Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have hurt you..."

"You should not have hurt me, Ron, even when you didn't know who I was."

"You acted so suspiciously. I didn't know that it was you, you were supposed to be the son of a Slytherin, but you wanted to befriend us..."

"But I never even tried to hurt you."

"That's true." Ron sighed. "I was an utter prat to you."

"Yes, you were," Harry nodded.

"Sorry, Harry." Ron disappeared behind his drapes again.

Harry looked at the closed drapes, then turned on his heel.

It was dinnertime anyway.

***************************************************************************

The great hall was disgustingly bright and happy in contrast with Harry's low mood. His composure after his breakdown began to fade, but Hermione stayed next to him and supported him silently with her presence. Harry first intended to hurry to his usual place ignoring the glares and glances cast in his direction, but he caught Ares's questioning look and he changed his mind. He went to him instead of his Gryffindor place, and stood behind his old place at that table.

The major part of the Slytherin table looked at him as shocked as if he were an alien, but Janus and Ares acted fast and gave him a place between them.

"So I was right," Ares said smirking.

Harry rolled his eyes in mock annoyance.

"Yes, you were. Are you happy now?"

"Perfectly," Ares's smirk changed into a genuine smile. "Don't think I regret my decision of being friends with you, just because you are Harry-Bloody-Potter!"

"I'm not Harry Potter, Ares. I'm still Harry, or Quietus if you like, but I'm most definitely not a Potter."

Ares looked at him.

"Oh, true. You are not. Most definitely," they blurted out in laughter.

Malfoy and his gang averted their faces from Harry and Ares disgustingly, but many Slytherins tried to slip somehow closer to them: they didn't want to miss Harry's possible revelations.

The conversation with the Slytherins was completely different from that of the Gryffindors. They were more interested in his captivity and treatment than in his degree of relationship and Harry found easier to talk to them. Though this conversation had its hard parts as well.

"Is it true that you that you have incurable curse scars on you?" a fifth year asked.

"How do you know about them?" Harry looked at him in surprise.

"Everybody suspected," the boy shrugged. "After Weasley's attack," he added.

"Oh, I see," Harry inhaled deeply. He didn't want to talk about his scars. He hated them and wanted them to go away.

"Did they torture you?"

"Yes," Harry admitted reluctantly.

"And how did you escape?" Janus's question.

"Oh, that's more interesting," Harry smiled and his mood lightened up. "It was a consequence of our relationship..." he began to recall the last summer's events, and sometimes he wondered to himself that he had surely never imagined that he would one day recall the events sitting at the _Slytherin _table of them all! He could see the faces and the gazes, even some of Malfoy's group, and he felt that the majority sympathised him and Severus much more than Voldemort, and he felt the disgust and rejection over the Dark Lord's torture and acts and the silent support of hope and life.

His tale was long, and since he was interrupted many times it last longer than the dinner itself, and as more and more students from the other tables came closer to listen to his story, he had to begin the whole tale over at least five times.

At a certain point he noticed that his Head of House was there together with the Headmaster and several other teachers.

Even Malfoy remained somehow.

The only person who didn't approach the table was Severus. He left just after the dinner was over.

Harry's heart couldn't help but clench. Again.

Severus couldn't imagine what in the boy's tale was so interesting that the whole Slytherin table – _his _table for God's sake! – was listening to him as intently as he had ever seen them listen. He had some guesses about that tale, however, but he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want another concoction of lies and half-truths. The boy could lull everybody in Hogwarts into a false universe, but he wasn't about to digest it. Not at all!

Not even pretending to listen to Albus he stood up and tuned to leave. For an instant, he had caught the boy's eyes – what he was thinking Severus couldn't answer – and swept away.

Later that evening, Minerva visited him.

Severus didn't even want to let her in.

She folded her arms and told him she would not leave until she had said her part.

Severus surrendered, grinding his teeth.

"You can't stop him attending your class, Severus," she said. "He is the one of the best students the school has ever had, better than you were, better than Albus was. And he is very talented in Potions. You will ruin his future with your narrow-minded selfishness."

"They cheated me, Minerva."

"And? They cheated me as well and for a longer time than you. And you were one of my so-called cheaters," McGonagall's face was deadly serious. "Severus, don't act like a child! Albus just wanted to protect Quietus..."

"Don't call him that!"

"It's his name, Severus!"

"Is NOT!" Severus protested, his face turned an ugly, brick-red colour in anger. "Quietus was my brother's name, not HIS!"

"Your brother was his father! He has the right to be named after him."

"So you still believe in Albus's tales," Severus spat out bitterly. "I don't believe him any more. I'm not curious about him and the boy and their fairy tales. I've already told Albus, I quit the Order, and after this year I will quit Hogwarts as well."

"Severus! Try to act like an adult!"

"I am acting like an adult, Minerva!" Severus snorted indignantly.

"Oh, no, Severus. You act like a seven year old. The boy is still your nephew, your responsibility, you can't pretend that..."

"WHAT? You are telling me what my responsibilities are? I cannot believe my ears! Look Minerva, the boy has Mr Black as a guardian, he has Albus as a grandfather if he wants, he has you as... as... something, it doesn't matter, but I won't stay at his disposal any more!"

"You are a _fool_, Severus," McGonagall said, her eyes cut like a razor. "Perhaps that Memory Charm deleted more than some memories. Perhaps it deleted the human part of you. Good night."

Severus looked at the closed door angrily.

Damn Albus! Damn Minerva! And damn the boy who made him hate his one time friends!

***************************************************************************

Next: Thursday

Enahma


	9. The Ministry and the Wizarding World

Betaed by Barbara

I think I can't work as fast as I intended to, so perhaps you have to suffer my rather annoying presence in this website until the middle of November, or something like this...

By the way, many thanks for reviewing. Many times I'm really surprised how well you catch my points – and so many times you miss the important facts... Very well, I just want to tell you to go and re-read my other stories if you believe I left out something...

And it's true: I stole ONE scene from Rowling: Draco and his little stun with the fireworks in the last chapter, but I don't care. I don't think it's copying – many times I find easier to re-shape others' sentences to fit my work, because I'm still NOT a native. Please, take this fact into consideration as well.

I hope after this chapter you will understand Severus's behaviour better.

About HAPPY END – well, it's my secret alone. But I hope the ending I want to give you won't be too stereotypical (clichéd). You know – it's already planned.

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Chapter 9 – The Ministry and the Wizarding World 

***************************************************************************

When Dumbledore and Harry appeared in front of the Ministry of Magic they had to face at least a dozen reporters – of course Rita Skeeter was one of them, even more, she managed to push her colleagues behind her and to block the two's way towards the old phone box, which was the entrance of the Ministry.

Harry paled, Dumbledore smiled, but Harry could see that it wasn't a real smile: this time even Dumbledore was more than slightly nervous. He pulled Harry closer and cast a quick glance around.

"So, Harry Potter is the boy-who-INDEED-lived," The irritating woman stepped up to them, and Harry averted his face in order to hide his disgust.

"I think I can't..." Dumbledore opened his mouth, but he was immediately interrupted.

"Is it true, that Severus Snape's brother is the boy's father?"

"Yes, but..." Dumbledore tried again, and Harry almost buried his face in his robes, as photographers fought their way through the reporters. The next moment at least twenty flashes exploded, and Harry blushed.

"How long have you known his true identity?" another question came.

"For one year, but..."

"Is it true that Lily Evans is his mother?"

"Yes, but..."

"It was you who deliberately misled the Ministry last year with the false corpse?"

"The situation is not so simple, and..."

"Is that true that an incident revealed Potter's true identity?"

"Yes, but..."

"Did Severus Snape know about the boy's identity when he took the boy back to the Snape family?"

"Yes, and..."

"Is it true that a wrongly cast Memory Charm corrupted Snape's memory so strongly that he doesn't remember his own nephew?"

"Yes, because..."

"Will Snape be the boy's guardian even now?"

"No, he..." 

"Why didn't he come with you if he is the boy's uncle?"

"He had other things to attend. It's school time and..."

"Is it true that he rejected the boy after the truth came out?"

"It's an exaggeration. He just..." Dumbledore tried to answer again, but this time it was Harry who interrupted him.

"Headmaster, I don't think it's worth answering these questions. They will corrupt the story anyway. Let's try to reach the entrance instead..." but then a hand grabbed him and hauled him away from Dumbledore. Again, several flashes.

"Let go of my arm!" Harry cried angrily and freed his abused arm from a man's grasp. "Don't touch me!"

"Is it true that after You-Know-Who's tortures you cannot stand to be touched?"

"NO!" Harry yelled frustrated. "I just hate being tugged and pulled!"

"Is that true that you have permanent scars all over your body?"

Harry paled in pure fury.

"It's none of your damned business!"

"What's your name now? Harry Potter or Quietus Snape?"

Harry clenched his jaw and didn't respond.

"Gentlemen, let us in," Dumbledore began to lose his calmness.

"Is that true that his OWLs were better than yours, Headmaster?" Rita asked, and this time Dumbledore answered without hesitation.

"No. But they were better than anybody else's," And now it was he who grabbed Harry's arm and stepped towards the entrance. But it was an impossible task.

"Is that true that the last Snape heir is not half-Muggle then?"

"Lily Evans was a witch," Dumbledore now was really angry, and he hissed these words.

"What do you think, will this fact render more possible the boy's acceptance amongst the pureblood noble families?"

"Sure," Dumbledore spat sarcastically.

"Is he the official Snape heir now?"

"Ask Professor Snape..." Harry muttered unhappily under his breath.

Most fortunately in that moment the Ministry's door banged open and a large group of Ministry Aurors flocked out. They cleared the way towards the two in no time.

"Finally," Dumbledore muttered and they hurried towards the entrance while flashes lit around them like thunderbolts.

"I don't know, but I'm not sure I'm curious about the articles they will write about me..." Harry trembled in frustration. "I can imagine their titles: Harry Snape – the newest celebrity of the pureblood noble wizarding families! Especially ones with a marriageable daughter."

Dumbledore lifted his eyebrows and chuckled slightly.

"I see they didn't manage to ruin your sense of humour, Quie... Harry."

"You can call me Quietus, Headmaster. It's my name."

"Is it?" Dumbledore asked curiously. Meanwhile they approached the lift. There weren't any more flashes, only the crowd's excited roar could be heard from the street.

"Yes, Last year, when Severus was still... still..." Harry sighed. "So when he still remembered me we agreed that my official name after the big revelation would remain Quietus Snape, but my first name would be Harold – I answer to both names anyhow."

"I see."

"Gentlemen," A white-haired man greeted them when the lift opened. "Albus, I'm glad to see you. Mr Potter," he turned towards Harry and held out his hand. "Terry Boot. Nice to meet you. My son told me quite a lot about you. I think it's not an exaggeration if I say that he thinks very highly of you."

"Terry Boot?" Harry cried out in disbelief and suddenly, he remembered the afternoon in Hogsmeade when he had stunned Terry, because... oh, because Neville's father tormented his... "Oh... But I... I..."

"Yes, I know, he told me. You did the right thing that day, Mr... oh, can you tell me, what your name is, my dear boy?"

"Quietus Harold Snape, sir. And pleased to meet you."

"So, Mr Snape, I can assure you that my son has no grudges against you. Or even more: he respects you." Harry just nodded: he was out of words. "Come in, I prepared the documents you asked me about, Albus. The Ministry's official Identifier will arrive soon as well. I'm sorry, but this time we have to cast the Identifying Spell on you, Mr Snape," he turned again towards Harry. "You know, it's generally not permitted..."

"... to be cast on a living person, yes, I know," Harry sighed.

"Well, I see that you heard about it."

"Quite a lot," Harry muttered.

"And we have to remove every spell, curse or charm cast on you," Mr Boot continued.

"Right. I have only a Glamourie on me, and I haven't eaten or drunk any potions in the last 42 hours."

"Perfect," the man nodded seriously. "May I remove the Glamourie?"

Harry shrugged.

"Of course. I think you know about my scars anyway."

"Yes," Mr Boot sighed. "I think everybody in the Ministry heard about those scars after your accident with Ministry Aurors last year."

"Harry, do you know why the Identifying Spell is forbidden to be cast by anybody but an certified Identifier?" Dumbledore asked suddenly.

"Of course, Headmaster," Harry said. "It's quite painful. And dangerous."

"I'm sorry, it has to be done... the questions about your identity..."

"I know," Harry looked at the officer seriously. "And I'm glad that the charade will be finally over."

They sat in silence until the Identifier, a young woman, arrived. She smiled at them.

"Hello, Terry. I see I received the chance to return to the wizarding community its hope in these fearful times," she turned to Harry, "and I'm really happy that you are here, Mr Potter. We all feel that your appearance gave us back the hope that we may perhaps win this war."

She smiled, but her words were deadly serious.

"I needed the last year's relative silence to heal," Harry replied quietly.

Everybody in the room turned silent. Finally, the woman sighed and released another, sad smile.

"I'm sorry I have to cause you pain. Do you have any spells on you?"

"Revelo," Harry muttered, his wand pointed to himself. "Not any more," he said. "Can I sit down?"

"Of course. And brace yourself, it will be quite long and painful. You can shriek, the room is soundproof," Harry nodded and sank into a nearby chair, his hands grabbed the chair's arms strongly. "_Justify!_"

Harry bit his lips not to cry out in pain. The spell was indeed hurting. Harry's first thought was that somebody ripped his body in true, but not simply his body, but every single part of him, like invisible hands wanted to tear him into pieces, it hurt, it hurt everywhere and Harry couldn't believe that he wasn't bleeding. His body tensed in the torment and then somebody exploded in his head, amongst his memories, searching for any self-image and self-identity, but meanwhile the tearing pain didn't lessen. The spell searched through his whole body, his whole existence, his flesh, genes, his mind, soul...

Why didn't the torment end yet? Wasn't it enough? Harry couldn't help, but choked, his knuckles turned white on the chair's arms.

_Let it be over_, he prayed to himself, _let it be over, stop the pain, it hurts, it hurts like a Tormenta, like Nott's Bone-breaking curse, like a Cruciatus... Let it be over._

His head began to throb, his eyes burned in their sockets.

_When will it stop? _Harry's mind shrieked.

Like hot, liquid metal, a new wave of pain washed over his body. His jaw clenched even more, and a familiar, metallic taste in his mouth: he bit his lips.

And suddenly, it was over.

Harry slumped in the chair, his eyes closed tightly, his body trembling under the previous pain's after-effects. After, Harry felt a pair of arm encircling him, and somebody began to rock him, murmuring over his head.

"You can write, Terry. His biological father is Quietus Salazar Snape, son of Severus Salazar Snape and Qirqe Athena Noblestone, you can find their ID amongst those files of yours. His mother is Lily Evans, daughter of Thomas Evans and Iris McAuley, both Muggles, but I think their ID will be somewhere in the files. I felt also a very strong adoption spell, which makes the boy the only heir of the Potter family as well. His stepfather's name is James Alfred Potter, son of Harold Winston Potter and Armena Helen Knight, their ID can be found in the already sealed Potter files, I think you have to reopen those documents. He was born in the 31 of July, 1980, and I found traces of Unforgivables on him as well: he was hit by the Killing Curse twice, by the Imperius Curse once, by Cruciatus 92 times, oh, my God..." her voice faded as she cited the main identifying elements of Harry's short life, and her embrace tightened, but he continued the dictation nevertheless. "His close blood relatives, who can claim his guardianship are Petunia Evans, daughter of Thomas Evans and Iris McAuley, his mother's sister and Severus Nobilus Snape, son of Severus Salazar Snape and Qirqe Athena Noblestone, another family member through christening is Sirius Italicus Black, son of Sirius Brutus Black and Itala Lilian Nott..."

"Sirius can't claim my guardianship?" Harry interrupted her. "How...?"

"Only in case of your blood relatives rejecting you," the woman said seriously. "But it's a long procedure, Mr Snape, and I don't think it will be necessary."

Harry, forgetting his previous pains, emitted a bitter laugh.

"No?"

Dumbledore answered the woman's unspoken question.

"It's very probable that his blood relatives will reject him," he said sadly. "But until it's sure I think we can appoint Mr Black as his temporary guardian. I asked him yesterday and he is willing to fulfil the task. He will be here soon to sign the documents."

"I will need his blood relatives' permission, Headmaster Dumbledore," the woman's face betrayed her deep dismay.

"Here you go," Dumbledore pulled out two – TWO! – folded papers from his pocket. Suddenly, every bit of strength ran out of Harry's body and soul.

"They... they..." he gulped. "They know and... both the Dursleys and Seve... professor Snape?" his chest froze.

Dumbledore didn't look at him, just nodded.

"They... they rejected me?" Harry's throat was too narrow to speak in his normal tone: his voice was thin and trembling. "Severus... rejected me?"

"Look, Quietus, it's just a temporary solution, give Severus time and..." Dumbledore began, but Harry interrupted him.

"Can I see that paper?" he was in the verge of tears, but he WANTED to see the clear sign of Severus's betrayal. He NEEDED to see.

Dumbledore handed the folded sheet over.

"Here."

Harry's hands shook as he unfolded the parchment. And there was, simply and clearly, with Severus's characteristic writing:

_Hereby I, Severus Nobilus Snape (ID: 03958912111) declare that I do not wish to claim the guardianship of my supposed nephew, Quietus Snape (formerly known as Harold James Potter) and I allow the Ministry's appropriate officer to appoint a suitable temporary guardian for him, until the rejection procedure can take place. I am aware that my rejection does not affect the status of inheritance of the aforementioned boy in case his relation to the Snape family will be proven._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Severus Nobilus Snape_

_Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

"I don't need his money!" Harry snapped angrily. "I don't..."

"Mr Snape," Mr Boot's voice stopped his tirades. "Your inheritance is legally yours, it's not a charity from your uncle's part. At this the moment, you are the only heir of the Snape family, although as long as your uncle is alive, only your father's part is your property. On the other hand, the whole Potter inheritance is yours, including the Potter Cottage in Wales, half of the Shell Magical International Company, which is one of the world largest magical companies, the old Potter's sealed vault in Gringotts, Godric's Hollow, and the Potter-Evans vault in Gringotts as well..."

Harry paled.

"But that's... that's..."

"That's quite a lot," Mr Boot finished Harry's stuttered sentence. "When you come of age, you will be one of the richest pureblood descendants in Great Britain. Oh, and as long as Mr Black doesn't marry and sire a son or a daughter, you and Miss Anne Black are the heirs of the Black inheritance as well."

Harry had to close his eyes, because the room was spinning around him. He was rich, very, very rich. He had more money than the Dursleys, and probably even more than the Malfoys.

He had never had so much money. And he had never felt so clearly that there were things in the world that couldn't be bought by money.

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Severus hated the constant fuss everybody seemed to make around that Potter brat. He hated Dumbledore's disappointed look, the students' silent shock – and most of all he hated the newspapers' hymns and praises about the half-wit, and the sappy stories they published. There were so many articles concerning Potter's 'resurrection' that the official elections slipped by like an absolutely unimportant event and although Patil had won, Severus couldn't see any newspapers with his photo on the title page, just Potter and Potter again.

He had confiscated not less than 17 copies of different newspapers and magazines in one morning and deducted more than 200 points in total, Slytherin included. He had read only one of them, but it had infuriated him so much that he almost cursed Minerva who had come to talk to him again. It hadn't been a report of that damned Rita Skeeter, he managed to seize a copy of _Modest Wizard_, the favourite magazine of the pureblood families, but even that article boiled his blood. Its title was '_Quietus Snape – not a half blood any more_'. Of course not. It came out that his mother was a witch, not a Muggle.

And the tone of the other rest of the article was just the same. 'Rejected by his uncle', 'the richest orphan of the Wizarding World', and a long, tear-wrenching story about his captivity in Nightmare Manor, his escape, his heroism, selflessness, outstanding OWLs, his award for saving Fudge's life, and so on, endlessly. And photos, photos and photos: the brat and Albus appearing in front of the Ministry, the brat hiding in Albus's folds of robes, the brat staring wide-eyed into the camera, disappearing in the Ministry's building, reappearing in the entrance, his infamous scar is clearly visible on his forehead.

Potter, the pompous brat, the big-headed idiot saviour, always him! Severus clenched his hands into fists in anger. Potter was back, and the wizarding community behaved as if they won the war already! Stupid hopes! The boy was nothing but an irresponsible child. If they trusted him, the war was already lost!

Severus was so angry as he approached the Great Hall to have lunch that he deducted forty points from his own house just because two second years collided into him at a corner. First he had wanted to have lunch in his own rooms, but later he changed his mind, he didn't want anybody to think him a coward. He could face the boy! It was not his fault what had happened. It was not he who had cheated others. It was not he who had abused others' trust. Why should he feel shame?

The temperature in the hall almost tangibly fell as he entered. He mentally shrugged ignoring the usual waves of hatred and aversion. He had never been anybody's favourite anyway. However, his colleagues' cold silence was a little bit disturbing. But it was not their bloody business.

It was very hard to fight through lunch, nevertheless.

And as soon as he retired to his office the first person he met was the other Gryffindor golden boy, the Squib Black who came to shout with him, he assumed as he saw the ex-Animagus.

"Snape. We have to talk," the man said not caring about such little things than greetings.

"We do not," he replied and opened his office's door. But Black was insistent.

"You have been the boy's guardian for a year. Now, this role was put on me. We have to talk."

Black had a point, really.

"What do you want?" he barked out irritated.

"To tell you my part, ask some questions and leave."

"Fine. You have fifteen minutes."

"Enough," Black nodded. Severus ushered him into his office.

They sat facing each other, and to Severus's surprise Black opened his mouth and started a civil-toned speech.

"I can imagine that you are angry, Snape. I believe that you feel betrayed. But you have to understand that it was not Quietus who betrayed you. He always wanted to tell you the truth since you regained consciousness in the hospital..."

"You have no proof, Black, but go on," Severus interjected.

Black paled, and apparently fought back some brutal remark.

"Right. I have no proof. And I have no proof of your previous relationship other than my experiences, but even you can't deny that since you woke up from your coma, the boy has been always at your side. He helped you, he cared for you. He loves you, and you rejected him like... like..." Black faltered, and Severus used the moment to make his remarks.

"You have no proof again, Black. How can I know that he really cares for me, or that his whole behaviour is anything but an act to protect himself? Or Albus and he may have another things in mind – how can I know? I don't want any more lies, and I don't need the Potter brat even if he is my brother's bastard..."

"You... you..." Black turned purple, and stood up towering over Snape. "You just called him a bastard..."

"Why? He is, isn't he? My brother didn't marry the Evans girl. It was James holy Potter who saved the poor girl from..." but he couldn't finish. The next moment a heavy fist landed on his cheek and the chair he was sitting on turned upside down. Severus pulled out his wand, but by the time he stood up to attack his archenemy, his office was empty. The Squib had fled.

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"I didn't ask you to talk to him!" Harry snapped at his godfather. "Why did you do it? You knew that it would just jeopardize the situation even more!"

"Qui- Harry, I just wanted to help!"

"I don't need anybody's help! I'm perfectly fine alone!" Harry shrieked and stormed out of the empty classroom he had met his now legal guardian in.

He had never wanted to end his life like he did now. It was simply too much. All too much.

He wasn't an adult, he realised. Or did even adults feel pain? Desperation? Fear? Sorrow? He shook his head. He was just sixteen! And the last few days were too long. The reporters, the Ministry, the spell's pain, and the first time he had actually heard the name of his mother's mother! Nobody had ever told him what his grandmother's name was! And later, the two rejecting statements. They simply broke his heart. Nobody needed him, his parents, his grandparents, his stepfather and his parents were all dead and the two living relatives he had didn't give a damn about him, his life, but most of all Severus... Severus who had held him after his nightmare just three nights ago, now rejected him and pretended Harry didn't even exist any more, and had written that horrible letter... Why? Why? Why?

Yes, Dumbledore and he had abused his trust but the revenge was much crueller than the act itself, and it was only Harry who had to carry its burden, Dumbledore had escaped unscathed although it had been his idea!

Harry seriously believed that he had no tears left after the last two days' repeated crying and weeping, but his sight was blurry and his eyes moistened again, his knees were bucking, and all strength ran out of him. What did the whole world want from him? He was just a weak boy, he wasn't a saviour, or a hero, and now he was crying like a baby again. He hated himself.

"What's up, Snape? Daddy abandoned you?" a cold, sarcastic voice purred behind him. Harry didn't turn around. He didn't want Malfoy to see his tear-soaked face and red eyes. It was enough to deal with his own weakness alone.

"My father died, Malfoy, more than sixteen years ago," he said calmly, too tired to fight back.

"You know whom I'm talking about," Malfoy didn't seem to be disturbed by Harry's soft answer. "Your highly adored Severus. You called him dad, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," Harry answered, "but it seems like it was years ago," he added, his voice sounded as if it came from a deep, dark pit.

"Nostalgic, aren't we?" the evil taunting went on.

"No. Just sad. Now, if you could be so generous... Leave me alone, Malfoy."

"I don't think your dear professor Snape will claim you ever. Why would he?"

"Why?" Harry repeated, but his thoughts were somewhere else. He let out a short, bitter chuckle. "Yeah, why? And why should I care?" he suddenly whirled around and looked into Malfoy's eyes not caring whether the blond boy would see his tears or not. "Why should I give a damn about anybody? Why should I be enraged by your taunting?" he opened his arms and shrugged. "I don't know, but somehow I'm stuck to this world and I do care what people think, say about me. It's not easy, Malfoy. I hate it." He circled the slightly shocked Slytherin and bid good bye.

"See you in Arithmancy tomorrow," Harry said in mocking politeness and left. He didn't go too far, however, some corners later a soft, female voice stopped him.

"Mr Snape, a word."

Harry looked at his Head of House warily, he wasn't really up to another conversation.

"Yes, professor?"

She ushered him inside and after some moments Harry surprised noticed that they were in the professor's private chambers. His eyes widened with realisation and cast a good look around. Like Severus's, McGonagall's rooms were not decorated with house colours: dark green and blue were the dominant tones, and some deep red, almost brown. The professor pointed to a chair, close to the fireplace and Harry sat down obediently. The stern witch sat facing him, and she blurted out-

"Harry, I... I..." Harry's jaw fell. He had never seen his Transfiguration teacher at a loss for words. Not to mention that she had never called him by his first name before.

"Yes?" he gulped.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry that things turned out this way..."

"It wasn't your fault, professor," Harry smiled sadly.

"Look, Harry. I talked to Severus that night. No," she lifted her voice when she saw that Harry prepared to interrupt her. "It was not about his guardianship. I simply tried to persuade him to take you into his Advanced Potions class. He refused."

"Yes, I know."

"I know that you like Potions," Harry just shrugged, by the moment the only emotion he could feel was gaping emptiness, "and I just wanted to encourage you not to abandon your Potion studies. I'm sure, Miss Granger will help you, or even Mr Longbottom, if you ask them... and perhaps later, when Severus comes to his senses, he will take you back – and you won't be left behind."

Harry managed another tight nod.

"You have to know, that we, your teachers will be there for you if you need us. Don't be ashamed to ask for help. We all know that these are very hard times for you. Harder than ever, however, you almost always have had to face hard situations..."

Harry nodded. He didn't have anything to say. He felt like he was in a vacuum. Horror vacui. The nothingness scared him, but he didn't feel strong enough to fight it.

Almost in a daze, he let McGonagall lead him to his own room, he felt – not without shame and trepidation – careful hands change him into his nightclothes, and the same hands tuck the blankets around him tightly, like Severus used to do... He felt a potion on his lips... wormwood... oh, the Dreamless Sleep potion... but it causes addiction, he thought, but he hadn't take the potion for months...

"Life stinks," were his last words, and to his surprise a tearful voice, which was very unlike the stern McGonagall, answered him,

"Yes, it does."

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The next days passed in a daze and Harry felt utterly grateful to Dumbledore and McGonagall that they had made him Head Boy and now, he had his own room instead of staying in the common dormitory under the pressure of the scrutinising look of Ron, the compassionate friendship of Neville and the curious interest of Dean and Seamus. In his room, he was alone after the lessons and he didn't have to go to the library to study, where he could run across Severus anytime.

He didn't want to run across him. He didn't want to meet him, or even look at him. He didn't want to see the coldness and rejection in the familiar black orbs, he didn't want scathing remarks and acid sarcasm – this was the reason he didn't even try to argue with the man about his Advanced Potions class. Oh, no, Harry had a very hard time without lessons where he would have been the one to be singled out and ridiculed, he didn't think he needed that feeling on the top of his hurt emotions.

And even now, Harry didn't understand his uncle's behaviour. But he didn't want to ask questions.

By the weekend Harry surprised noticed that he hadn't even seen the man.

The common meals were the most difficult places to avoid him. Generally, Hermione helped him, although not deliberately: they entered the hall together, and Harry was always cautious to stand at the right side of the girl, so that she was between him and the professors' table. And he forced himself not to look toward it. He didn't mind if Severus thought him a coward.

Saturday morning, however, was different. First, Hermione was nowhere seen and he had to make his way alone to the Great Hall. There were only a few students having breakfast and none of them was Harry's friend or classmate so he sat alone in his normal place, but he could see from the corner of his eye that Severus was indeed there. His appetite disappeared, but he forced himself to drink at least a cup of pumpkin juice, and turned to flee.

He almost managed. Almost. But the Headmaster's voice stopped him.

"Quietus, please."

He stopped, and every muscle in his body tensed. If he turned to the Headmaster he would face Severus as well. The pumpkin juice in his stomach made an uneasy movement, and Harry gulped to avoid any self-humiliation in the centre of the hall. He schooled his face expressionless and slowly, he turned around.

"Yes, Headmaster?"

"Please, come to my office at 10 am. It's important."

"Yes, Headmaster," he said and unintentionally, his eyes wandered to the black, tall man, next to Dumbledore. The man refused to look at him. Harry sighed and left.

"Quietus, wait!" he heard another voice just as he left the hall.

It was Erica, the newest member of the good old Slytherin House. The other person, Voldemort had been after – but now, that the truth about Harry's surviving became public she was much safer than ever before. Now, it was clear that he, son of Quietus Snape (who had been about to become Dumbledore's successor – Hermione had showed Harry an article where he could read even THIS particular piece of information!) was the real enemy of the Dark Lord, the one and only who could fight him and defeat him. Yes, it was very clear to the Dark Lord – Harry had seen it, and had sensed the wrath and fury, which filled the snakelike body, seen the red eyes swirling with vengeance and rage, and suffered the curses he had cast on his followers.

Harry sighed and turned his head around.

"Yes?" he asked tiredly.

The girl stopped next to him.

"I... I just wanted to say that you shouldn't isolate yourself like you do nowadays. That... that you have to try to..."

Harry shook his head in annoyance.

"Why should I? I need some time to get used to the present situation again. And I'm not a very sociable person."

"But you are in every newspaper!" the girl cried out in disbelief.

"It wasn't my choice," Harry snapped back. "I didn't ask for publicity!"

"Oh, I see..." she looked at Harry at suddenly, changed topic. "I heard that you wouldn't be in the Advanced Potions class. Is that true?" Harry merely nodded. Erica gulped and went on. "He... accepted me into that class, but I don't know if I... so in my old school we followed another syllabus and I just thought to ask you if..."

"If...?" Harry asked after a short silence.

"If you could help me and show me what you learned in the last year..."

Harry furrowed his brows.

"Why me? There is Ares or Malfoy in your House, or Pansy..."

Erica smiled slightly.

"I don't know them but I know you."

"Really?" Harry couldn't believe to his ears. "You only met me once before!"

"Yes, but... you are the best in potions. And you... you know the advanced curriculum as well, you worked with professor Snape last year..."

Harry nodded darkly.

"Yes, but it doesn't mean I'm the best person to help you."

"All right," the girl surrendered. "However, I just wanted only one occasion to check on the subject."

"One?" Harry asked back knowing that he was about to enter this trap.

"One," the girl nodded.

"Okay," Harry nodded defeated. "Then tomorrow, after dinner in the library, Arabic Mysticism section. Bring your potions books with you."

"Of course," she flashed another smile at him and left. Harry inhaled relieved. If the girl knew that he agreed only for one reason, she would be quite angry. But the reason still stayed: Erica Knight had the same surname than Armena Helen Knight, the wife of Harold Winston Potter!

***************************************************************************

"Harry?" a tentative voice.

"Are you, really?" another.

"My dear boy," a whisper.

"If only we knew..."

Choked sobs and hopeful glances greeted Harry in the Headmaster's office.

The Weasleys, again. But this time nobody dared touch him, they were just looking at him, Mrs Weasley in the verge of tears, Mr Weasley smiling tentatively, George with forced calmness on his face, Bill shaken, Charlie with twinkles in his eyes, Percy with a deep, scarlet blush on his cheeks, Ginny happily and Ron – well, Ron had a blush on his face very similar to Percy's.

Only Fred was missing – and he will be missing forever, Harry thought to himself, and trembled. Fred was missing. It was his fault.

"You are back..." Mrs Weasley whispered.

"He was never away, Mum," George said and cast a cold glance to his two, blushing brothers. 'He has been always here. It was so obvious..." he stopped as if he was waiting for his twin to finish his sentence, but there was nobody to do it again.

"Did you...?" Harry eyed him unsurely, and the boy nodded.

"We knew it from the first meeting in Flourish and Blotts."

"You... how?" Harry stuttered.

"Simple. It was you. Only your appearance changed, the person behind the new face remained the same. Fred wanted to tell Ron, but at first we weren't sure. And later... Ron was such..."

"A git," Ron murmured and George smiled lightly.

"Oh, yes, a git, precisely. So we decided not to. We didn't want to endanger you or professor Snape," his smile turned into a bitter one, "however, as I heard he finally managed to endanger you..."

Harry suddenly averted his gaze to the floor and shrugged.

"I'm glad that the truth is finally known." He looked up again. "I hated those lies. The half-truths, the secrets, the constant explaining. Now, I can be myself again."

"You have always been yourself, Quietus," George said.

A short silence.

"You are always welcome in our home," Mr Weasley finally added. "Whenever you need a family..."

Harry cringed.

"I have Sirius," he murmured and closed his eyes. "But thanks nevertheless..."

"No, Harry, you don't have to thank anything," Mrs Weasley couldn't resist any more: she stepped up to him and hugged him tightly. "You are like a son to us. Nothing's changed."

_Everything has changed_, Harry thought, but this time he forced himself not to break down. He didn't want any more display of his weakness.

Percy came closer.

"Harry..."

Harry involuntary backed up. His dislike towards Percy hadn't changed a bit, he still didn't trust him enough to forgive those things in the shady classroom. He folded his arms over his chest and cast a cold glance at the taller boy.

"I don't want revenge, Percy," he said in an icy tone. "But it doesn't mean I can forget your vengeance and hatred towards a mere boy – and now, it's really not important that that boy was me."

"I just wanted to apologise," his voice was begging.

"But I'm still not ready to forgive."

"But Ron..."

"Stop. Ron's case is another topic between him and me," something in Ron's gaze softened to Harry's words.

"But the thing I did to you wasn't any better than Percy's..." his ex-friend said seriously.

"No," Harry shook his head. "They cannot be compared, Ron. What you did was cruel, that's true, but we were standing face-to-face, one against one, and you didn't use your official position to torture me – because you didn't have any. It was more like a duel, and I should have been more cautious. But Percy's case... is another business. As a Ministry Auror and an adult he was in a very delicate position. And I was totally helpless, I didn't have my wand, and I didn't have the ability to leave."

Ron nodded and Percy's blush deepened.

The topics, which emerged later were much less uncomfortable.

***************************************************************************

After Madam Pince had blurted out somehow that the Potter boy hadn't been in the library the whole week, Severus decided to fetch finally those potions books from the Arabic Mysticism section. As Head Boy, the brat was possibly in his own room, or was hanging around with his admirers – too many Slytherins amongst them though – it was quite impossible that he would meet him in the library in a Sunday evening.

No, he was most definitely not afraid of meeting the brat, he just wanted to avoid his sight: the Potter with a Snape face! Scandal! However, he couldn't really explain to himself either why he had begun hating the boy with such a passion. It was an inexplicable feeling, but deep and strong and his sense of being betrayed just fuelled it even more. Perhaps Minerva had been right and something had been corrupted with that stupid Memory Charm – if it had been actually he who had cast that blasted spell and not Albus or the brat...

Fortunately, the Arabic Mysticism section was empty and he could research freely on the shelves. Severus smiled as he picked a thick tome from the upper shelf, and he was about to sit down and read it when voices interrupted the library's silence.

A male and a female voice. Severus smirked and quickly put the book back to its place. Perhaps he could remove some house points before working if he could catch the couple in a compromising situation. He slipped from the Arabic section and stopped behind the neighbouring row of shelves: it seemed quite logical that a couple seeking some intimacy would choose the aforementioned section.

"What then?" the female voice asked. It was a quite unfamiliar voice, Severus had never heard it before: it should be his newest house member's, that Knight girl.

"Did you bring your potions books?" Severus's heart almost stopped. The Potter brat!

"Of course. You told me to," the girl answered and Severus smirked. The girl was flirting with the school's celebrity!

"Okay. I brought my fifth year potions book and the notes I made during classes. Let's see..."

Nothing interesting: rustling of papers, a soft creak as somebody changed position in the chair.

"Ares told me that you are the best in potions," the girl cooed. Severus rolled his eyes.

"I. Was," Potter replied slowly and leafed through another book. "I'm not a member of that class any more."

"Why don't you ask the professor to..." she couldn't finish, Potter interrupted her.

"It's none of your business. We came here to check your potions syllabus and not to talk about my life's latest turns." Potter apparently wasn't aware of the girl's intents.

"Is it true then?"

"What?" Potter barked. Oh, getting annoyed?

"What the newspapers said."

"What are you thinking about precisely?" he asked in mocking politeness. "They wrote a lot of things."

Severus almost laughed. Potter somehow couldn't realise that he had become involved in a conversation he had wanted to avoid at any cost.

"That thing about you and professor Snape." Uh, oh. Potter didn't react, so the girl went on. "That he disowned you."

"What?" Potter cried out in disbelief. "Rubbish. He didn't disown me, I'm not his heir," Potter began to explain. Bravo, Miss Knight! Beautiful trap! "He just rejected the chance to be my guardian, that's all." He should glare at the girl, because there was silence for several long moments, and after that the brat began to explain the last year's curriculum to the girl, though apparently just those parts she didn't learn in her school. Severus had to confess to himself that the boy was indeed a very good potions student. Which didn't mean, of course, that he would allow him into his class.

After a while Severus got bored and decided to leave, but the girl suddenly asked another question in a very low voice.

"And... is that true that Snape..."

"_Professor _Snape to you," Potter interjected aloud. He, apparently didn't intend to whisper.

"... that _Professor _Snape," the girl continued in a quiet voice, "is a Death Eater?"

There was a moment of silence, and Severus thought that the girl would be a perfect reporter, even better than that blasted Rita Skeeter.

"How dare you?" Potter hissed suddenly. "How dare you?"

"Wha- what?" the girl stuttered.

"How dare you accuse him of such a crime?" Potter's voice was still a sharp hiss. "How dare you distort the newspapers' lies even more? You know the answers. You can read it anywhere!"

"But you lived with him for a year. You know him better..."

"Get out of my sight," Potter said suddenly in a calm voice.

"But..."

"I said go! The tutoring is over. Look for another boy to flirt with. I'm not interested."

Uh, oh again. Potter was not the half-wit he looked like.

"You will regret this, Harry," the girl voice now sounded hurt.

"I don't think I will regret it if you leave now. But I surely will do something I will regret if you don't leave now!"

After the girl's departure Potter didn't move for a long time.

When Severus peeked out of his hiding place, he could see the thin form bent on the desk, his face buried into his arms, only his shaking shoulders betrayed that he was crying. Severus halted still, and for the first time in the last days a little confusion began to tone down the massive hatred he felt towards the boy.

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Next: well, most probably next week's first half. Barbara has her mother at her home and I have many things to attend here.

Oh, and **ladyfalcon **dear: after I finished this story, I WANT to re-shape HDH. It must be re-shaped. I think it's horrendous – the grammar, the vocabulary, my God, everything. If anybody wants to help me... (Help. Not betaing.)

Enahma


	10. Memories

Betaed by Barbara

I have some problems at that: I have only two weeks remained to finish this story, but... it won't be enough. Which means that I will upload (probably) chapter 11-15 before the 4th of November, but chapters 16-20 will be on only after the 15th of November – because I will be terribly occupied.

I hate this situation, I hate that I can't finish this fic before November, however, I will try to do my best.

And yes, you are right, sometimes I just want to be over with the story. But this wish just renders my situation more difficult. The more I want to write to finish it, the less I can manage. I think you can understand me. Since March I wrote more than 300000 words – and not in my mother tongue, and now, I'm drained.

So, forgive me all the spelling and grammar errors this time.

And ENJOY my fic even if I can't enjoy it. :-P

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Chapter 10 – Memories 

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Harry's arrival was the usual: he simply fall onto his face as he tried to spiral out of the fireplace. Somebody grabbed his arm and helped him up though.

"Albus told me that you would come," the calm, deep voice had a calming effect on Harry's quite shaky mood. As he raised his head he looked directly at the Head Healer's worrying face.

"I must talk to you," Harry blurted out through a dry throat. "I have to know... I... that..."

"I know, young man," the woman ushered him towards an armchair and leaned on the mantelpiece in her usual manner. "Albus told me about the wand. And if I remember well you know about these Memory Charms and the dangers of their use."

"Yes," Harry muttered, his heart racing in his chest. "But... I have to be sure. I..." he couldn't continue. His voice trailed off, like it would have been somewhere half-way in his mind. "Will he hate me forever?" he suddenly cried out.

The woman sighed and closed her eyes.

"Do you remember when we talked about Severus's condition, just before you first visited him?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," Harry said again.

"Can you tell me the things you remember from that conversation?"

Harry struggled to concentrate hard to recall those words of two months ago.

"You told me that his emotions are strongly damaged because he removed the memories of his brother from his mind, and that he has almost completely lost track of his past motives. And confused," he added as an afterthought. "But that was two months ago!"

"Young man, the situation is not as simple as you imagine. Two months are not long enough to heal injuries – and certainly not to heal emotional injuries."

Harry stilled at those words. If anybody knew that emotional shocks were very hard to get through, he did. For him, it had taken more than a year to break free of the consequences of his captivity, and still, he wasn't completely healed: he still had nightmares and relapses, like that panic attack several days ago, he still had eating disorders and he was an emotional wreck: the amount of weeping he had done in the last few days was alarming.

So he nodded.

"On the other hand for Severus those days of your fourth year happened only two and a half months ago. His dislike towards Harry Potter is as alive as it was then. Your secretive behaviour towards him just worsened the situation. He dislikes you because you are Harry Potter, and..."

"But I'm not that Harry Potter he knew from my fourth year!" Harry interjected. "I'm his nephew and I tried to tell him as much as I could, sometimes against the Headmaster's wishes."

"Yes, but you didn't tell him the most important thing..."

"BECAUSE DUMBELDORE PROHIBITED ME FROM DOING SO!" tears began to prick Harry's eyelashes, but this time they were tears of anger, not of sorrow or depression. "Why couldn't he understand?"

"I don't think he ever tried to understand Harry Potter – and you are Harry Potter, rather than his nephew for him now. But there is something worse than that: he feels – and he is – very exposed, unlike many other Obliviated people. A general Obliviation spell affects only a small part of the human mind, some minor memories, subtle things, and the Obliviated person many times doesn't even realise that he was attacked. But in his case the Memory Charm was so thorough and wide that he could have realised it even if we hadn't told him about it. So he is well aware of his weakness: that he has a memory full of wide gaps and holes, and he can't fill these holes, he needs other people to tell him what happened, he needs people to trust, people who won't abuse his weakness. And I think Albus should have told him long ago many parts of the truth, but he didn't wanted to risk Severus's loyalty."

"How do you mean his loyalty?" Harry hissed.

"I think that was the main reason of Albus's secrecy. He wasn't sure about Severus's loyalty any more since it was based on the death of his brother. So he needed another bond to bind Severus to the Order and to keep him away from You-Know-Who, and that was you, his supposed son."

Harry lowered his head in anger.

"I see. He told me it was for my protection."

"Probably both," the healer hurried to agree. Harry lifted his face again.

"So this is the situation now. But is there any hope for Severus to regain his memories or a part of them? I read that there isn't, but I want to hear it from somebody who has many years experience on the field."

The woman smiled sadly.

"Perhaps I'm one of the most experienced healers, young man, but it still doesn't mean that I can tell you with absolute certainty statements concerning Severus's future mental condition."

"You're beating around the bush," Harry said darkly. "Tell me the truth, please. I want... I must know!"

The two people stared at each other for a long time. Finally, it was the healer who surrendered.

"Very well," she said heavily. "My answer is: no. There isn't much hope for him to recover."

"Why?"

The woman apparently braced herself for a long explanation.

"A correctly cast Memory Charm does not alter the mind's content, it only raises gates and walls around certain areas, memories, pictures. Our work here is to remove those walls and give the lost memories back to our patient. This is quite a long process and we followed that, because we thought that Severus cast the spell properly. As you saw: it was completely fruitless. Severus's condition didn't change either a little bit, because his Memory Charm was far from correct. It means that the spell, instead of rising walls and gates most probably erased those memories or damaged them permanently," the healer stepped up to her chair and sat down. "I had only five patients like Severus in my praxis. And none of them recovered." She stopped for a while. "Albus told me the way he treats you now. It's partially the reason of the incorrect spell. Not only his previous dislike."

"Which means what?"

"I don't know, young man," she whispered sounding a little defeated.

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After returning from his meeting with the Head Healer Harry completely refused to take part in anything his friends planned. He retired to his room and spent the majority of his days there looming and making pitiful attempts to study. But somehow his classes couldn't catch his interest any more. And it was not his teachers' fault, they tried hard.

The new defence teacher, professor Noir was very nice to him and very helpful, she offered some tutoring classes in duelling, which Harry had refused immediately, although he had known he needed practice. But he didn't care.

McGonagall, to Harry's relief, didn't change her demeanour towards Harry, she remained the strict, stern professor he had known previously, which made his situation more bearable, but... Harry could feel her sympathy sometimes as he caught a worried glance shot towards his direction, and he hated it. He didn't need anybody's worry or pity.

The Arithmancy professor overloaded him with exercises and homework, like professor Flitwick, even Binns seemed to realise something that happened to his favourite pupil, because he invited Harry into his personal quarters (why did a ghost need personal quarters, Harry wondered) and lent him some books, which were surprisingly quite interesting.

The sixth NEWT class Harry had decided to take was Herbology, and it was nothing different from the previous years' classes: even his classmates were the same. Apparently, Herbology was the class almost everybody received good enough marks in to continue their studies.

So Harry went from lesson to lesson and forced himself to study, to eat, to sleep, to keep walking and living, but his mind wasn't in it. He replayed his conversation with the old healer again and again, arguing with himself, desperately looking for some solution, but as time went by, after several weeks, he finally had to accept the fact that Severus would never be the same. And he had to move on. But this 'moving on' didn't mean that he would give up on Severus. Not at all. He had another idea in mind.

It occurred to him during a defence lesson, in the last week of September, when they finally finished revising the OWLs curriculum and the professor began to introduce them to the next years' NEWTs expectations. Harry was deadly bored. He had already read all the recommended books for this year, and so he didn't think he would hear anything important. He let his mind to drift, so it was quite a shock when he caught some words of his teacher's long speech.

"... and you have to understand that there are no perfect wards and shields. Every shield can be penetrated; every ward can be gotten through. Your task is to find out how. If an attempt is futile, you have to try another way. In this year we will learn about these alternate ways to get through shields and wards and personal security systems..." she went on, but Harry's thoughts were distracted again.

'_... there are no perfect wards and shields..._'

'_Every shield can be penetrated; every ward can be gotten through._'

Harry felt his heart beat faster.

'_Every shield can be penetrated; every ward can be gotten through._' The sentence repeated in his head over and over again.

What if the old healer was wrong? What if some parts of Severus's previous memories remained untouched, and he just had to find them? What if those memory-fields were not damaged totally, if these were only assumptions and guessing? What if there were only walls and wards around those memories, just a little bit stronger wards than the average Obliviation wards?

Harry became so excited that he could barely wait for the lesson to end. That day he had no other lessons, only lunch right after the lesson, but he didn't bother with stupidities like lunch now. Hearing the teacher's dismissing words he threw his books into his bag and sprinted towards the library.

'_Every shield can be penetrated; every ward can be got through. Your task is to find out how._'

He would find the way through Severus's walls. It was his task, and he would not fail.

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Severus was still seething with anger as he entered the classroom with his sixth year Advanced Potions class in it. This morning he received the last issue of _The Advanced Brewer_, and almost fainted when caught the photo of that damned boy on the cover.

How?

Could Potter be everywhere? This was not the _Witch Weekly_, or the _Daily Prophet_, until this point this was a serious scientific journal, so there was no place for famous and big-headed gits like Potter in it, not to mention on the cover of it!

"What were you thinking..." he had muttered and jumped to his feet so that his chair turned upside down. Dumbledore had glanced at him curiously, but Severus just shrugged and left the Great Hall in a hurry. His appetite was destroyed anyway.

He wanted to write a letter to the editor protesting against the journal's apparent corruption by the fame of a totally undeserving boy, but he had known that he should read the article first, if he wanted to do it properly. So he had sat down in his favourite chair and opened the journal.

He had almost had a fit when he read the title: '_Quietus Harold Snape – a genius about to be wasted?_' He had coughed and spat out the tea he had been drinking in shock.

For the first time since the truth had come out, this had been the first article, which _really _blamed him for his behaviour. The other articles had treated him as a heartless bastard, but that had been nothing surprising, and in a sense they had been completely relieved that an ex-Death Eater as him, had no influence on their precious Boy-Who-Lived.

But this article was completely different. Its writer – McRee of all people! – had attacked him seriously about his refusal of the boy. '_I had the honour to teach the boy for some weeks and I have to say that I have never had an apprentice as thoughtful, intelligent and creative as young Mr Snape, who now, after his uncle's decision is excluded from further training in the subtle art of potion making, and so he has no hope to have the proper qualifications to obtain the place among the Potions Masters he deserves._' Severus shrieked, but the article had other things to say: '_We all read the two Snapes' journal about their experimentations on the Wolfsbane Potion, and we all knew how large a role young Mr Snape played in creating the new concoction. It's simply intolerable that professor Snape, just because he learned that his nephew was none other than Harold Potter, refuses to teach him..._' and so on, without an end. The most unnerving thing about the article was that that boy was really talented, Severus had to confess to himself. He remembered perfectly how they had worked together, the precise movements, the interest, the attention, and last, but not least, his dedication to studying, to understanding.

It had been... well... satisfying to work with him. He had been an excellent assistant.

But he was Potter nevertheless, and Severus hated him.

So, he was quite angry as he entered the classroom. Seeing Miss Granger and the Longbottom boy didn't help. Watching the class's struggling during the whole brewing process didn't help either. Mostly because Severus knew that the boy would brew the potion easily and perfectly – he had already seen him brewing this potion.

So by the end of the lesson, Severus became livid.

"Miss Granger. Stay behind," he snapped at the girl. She seemed appalled, but waited patiently until her mates filed out of the classroom.

"Yes, sir?" she approached the teacher's table in the back of the room.

"I want to talk to Potter, today, my office, eight p.m."

Suddenly, the girl's generally open expression became suspicious and tense.

"Why, sir?" she asked calmly.

"It's none of your business," Severus said coldly and stood up. "Now, go."

"No."

Severus froze in half-movement. He had never, NEVER heard of the Granger girl speaking impolitely to her teachers. He, slowly, turned to her.

"No?" he asked menacingly.

"No," she whispered, and Severus saw her struggling to maintain a brave appearance. And she repeated again, "No."

"No what?" he stood up finally and stepped closer to the scared girl.

"I will not tell him, sir," she gulped. "I don't want him to be hurt again. Just because you read that article..."

"How do you know that, girl?" Severus growled and he stood now face-to-face to the trembling student.

"Quiet received his own copy, and I saw... him on the cover," she swallowed hard, "and I read the article as well..." her voice faded and she turned her face away from Severus's threatening expression.

"I don't mind what do you think, Miss Granger, I still want to talk to Potter this evening."

"I don't know any Potter, sir," the girl said and stepped back. "I can't give your message."

"Ten points from Gryffindor for being cheeky, Miss Granger."

The girl looked at him, and most surprisingly he found only sadness in her eyes.

"Yes, sir," she said and left.

Just after she closed the door, Severus realised that he had to find somebody else to transmit his message.

***************************************************************************

"Ares told me you wanted to talk to me, sir."

Severus looked up from the essays he was grading, then he cast another glance to his watch. It was eight o'clock, precisely.

"Close the door," he said, and put down his quill. He saw as the boy quickly shut the brown, wooden door, and turning, he stared at him expectantly.

Severus massaged his temples in distress, and he saw surprised that a slight smile appeared on the boy's face. It enraged him, not for the first time that day.

"Potter!"

The smile disappeared.

"My name is Snape, sir," the boy said cheekily. Severus clenched his hands into fists in rage.

"You read the article," Severus continued purposefully ignoring the boy's remark.

"Which article?" the brat blinked in confusion.

"In _The Advanced Brewer_," Severus hissed.

"No, sir," Potter shook his head. "I gave my copy to Hermione."

"Why?"

A shrug.

"She spotted something in it, and wanted to read it. She said she would give it back to me tomorrow."

The boy's calmness somehow annoyed Severus even more. Was he plotting something again?

"Don't think just because that article I will let you in my class."

"What?" Potter looked surprised. "I never asked you to take me back."

It was true, but it enraged Severus even more.

"But you want to come back," he hissed.

Potter shrugged again.

"No. Not really."

"No?" he said in mocking interest. "Am I not good enough for our local celebrity, Potter?"

The boy gulped and looked into his eyes.

"My name is Snape, sir," he said again.

"Answer my question!" Severus cried at the boy.

"Why?" he replied. "You won't take me back. I didn't ask you. I don't think my opinion is relevant in these circumstances."

He was right again. Severus hated him.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter."

The boy shuddered, and slowly he said-

"I. Am. Not. A. Potter. And you can't deduct points just because you don't like me. I did nothing to deserve punishment."

"Nothing?" Severus suddenly erupted. "And the lies? The half-truths? The abuse of my ignorance?"

Unexpectedly, the boy lowered his head.

"I wanted to tell you, from the very first day," he whispered. "But the Headmaster was afraid of your reaction."

"You wanted to tell me?" sarcasm dripped from the Potions Master's voice. "A lie, again."

"No," the boy shook his head vehemently. "I really did. The first time I could I told you that I was not your son. I wanted to tell you who I was, just... I was... I was just afraid of losing you..." the last words were very quiet.

"You managed," Severus replied coldly. The boy's face snapped up, and Severus saw the lines of tiredness on the young face. But not only tiredness. All of a sudden he caught himself, the sixteen-year-old himself in that face, and something else he couldn't place a finger on, something distant and bittersweet, something, which touched him deeply, so deeply that for a moment he couldn't even breathe.

They were standing facing each other now.

The boy was not a Potter. He was indeed a Snape, Severus confessed to himself. Or he had gone barking mad.

"Now, get out," he muttered before the confusion could break through his emotionless mask. "And don't think you will have any chance."

Again, _that _expression.

"Yes, sir," the boy nodded, and left. 

But the confusion remained.

***************************************************************************

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked surprised, when Harry emerged from between two rows of bookshelves.

"Reading," he answered sarcastically, and put the books he was carrying in his arms on the desk. "This is the library, Ron."

Ron eyed his books with a little astonishment.

"Why are you reading stuff like this?" he lifted the thick book, which lay on the top of the pile. "_Sharing Memories – a practical guide,_" he read aloud. "_Remembrances_," was another title.

"Ron, please," Harry said softly. "It's none of your business."

Ron sat down and looked at him seriously.

"You do it for Snape, don't you?"

"Congratulations," Harry replied sarcastically. "One point to Gryffindor for being so intelligent."

"But... why?" his ex-friend asked.

Harry sighed, and didn't answer immediately. He and Ron still weren't friends, they were on neutral terms, they rarely said more than the usual greeting words to each other and Harry knew that it was mostly Ron's guilt, which made their relationship almost insupportable. Ron had been shocked when he found out half a year ago that he had almost killed someone. His shock had grown even larger when he had learned that that person was none other than Harry.

"You can guess," he blurted out sardonically.

"Oh..." Ron choked. "But... he rejected you..."

Of course, the details weren't common knowledge. Harry told them only to Hermione, but the others could barely follow the events of the past months. The end of the fourth year – Snape – his son – lighter mood – easier Potions classes – Malfoy – Quietus's disappearance – Voldemort (alias You-Know-Who) – Obliviate (this was a part many didn't know) – long staying in the hospital – tensions between Snape and his son – then a good relationship again – a sudden word in a Potion class – total rejection – insupportable Potions classes. Over again.

Harry sighed and finally decided not to react. But now, Ron was insistent.

"Look, Harry I came to talk to you."

"Indeed?" Harry raised an eyebrow not lifting his eyes from the book he opened a moment ago.

"In the end of the last year we talked and you... you said you wanted to be friends with me. And then... since then I have been thinking of you, and suddenly, it turned out that you are you and I..." he stopped, then yelled out. "Harry, I felt so terrible! After I attacked you in Hogsmeade, I wanted to disappear. I was ashamed of myself. I... you..." Ron lowered his voice again. "And when I learned the truth... Harry, I know that it was terrible what I did, but... it means that... can't we be friends again?"

This time, Harry felt distress and sincerity in his ex-friend's voice, so he placed the book on the table and slowly, he massaged his temples in thought. Suddenly, he realised that it was one of Severus's characteristic manners, and cracked a half-smile.

"I don't know, Ron," he answered sincerely. "It's not as easy as you think..."

"Why not?" Ron furrowed his brows. "What I did, I did for you!"

"And you did it to me as well, Ron!" Harry whispered back.

"You should have told me!" Ron hit the table with his fist. "I was your best friend. I thought you had died. It was terrible. Terrible," Ron shook his head. "You can't imagine. And then..."

Suddenly, Harry couldn't stand listening to Ron any more. He jumped to his feet, grabbed some of the books lying in front of him and stormed out of the library as fast as he could. But for a short moment, he stopped in the door.

"I know something about being miserable, Ron," he said and left.

Later, in his room, he continued his study on Pensieves. This was the idea, which had occurred to him when he had begun to think about Severus's condition after Dumbledore's dark revelation about his wand.

It wasn't possible for Severus to regain his lost memories, then he would give him his own memories, as much as he could. There were some problems though. First, he didn't have a Pensieve, second he didn't know the idea behind that. Not to mention that he didn't want to give over his memories. He wanted to share them, which meant that he had to study how to put a memory into a Pensieve and let it remain in his head in the same time.

Buying the Pensieve wasn't difficult. According to his present economical health he could buy hundreds of Pensieves, although they were rather expensive. Nevertheless, he had had a little shock when he finally ordered one: the company had sent the Pensieve for free, and when Harry questioned them, they pointed out that he was one of the owners of that company – because it was an affiliated company of Shell Magical International.

Harry touched the rim of the small, simple bowl, and smiled. It would give Severus something more precious than any money or riches. It would give him something back, something, which once belonged to him, but later had disappeared into nothingness.

But he wasn't ready yet. He wanted to try somehow the things he had read and learned. And his short row with Ron gave him a good idea.

First, he would test his 'Pensieve abilities' on Ron.

***************************************************************************

Harry was so nervous that he almost had a fit. Erica had approached him again and he simply was unable to break free from her. He knew that he still was ugly and quite bad-tempered, but it hadn't stopped the girl from haunting him. Harry felt miserable again. He wanted to turn time back, to be Severus's son again – not only because of the man, but because when he had been Severus's son, the half-Muggle, ugly guy, nobody wanted to befriend him for his fame, health or noble origin. Even being Harry Potter had been better than this. As a Potter he had been a handsome boy, but now... And he wasn't blind. He could see perfectly that Erica didn't like him. She liked all those things, which Harry despised: the fame, the richness and the origin.

And now, she was chattering with him nevertheless, smiling and flirting slightly, playing with her hair, biting her lips in a way she believed being sensual, but all of this repulsed Harry, and he tried his best not to send her to hell directly.

"... so professor Snape gave us this task and I thought I would ask you, Harry, since you are..." she chattered happily, but to Harry's luck Seamus stepped up to them, and excused Harry.

When they had walked enough away that Erica was out of earshot, Harry released a deep sigh.

"Thanks, mate."

"She is terrible," Seamus shook his head. "But I think you should be more firm and send her away. Your apparent uncertainty gives her the idea that you may date her or something..."

"Oh, I know," Harry rolled his eyes. "But many times I simply have no time to open my mouth."

Seamus winked at him.

"You should try your fa- I mean professor Snape's style. You can do it, I saw last year. Well, perhaps your sneer is not _that _good, but good enough to scare her miles away from you."

Harry released a short, almost happy laugh.

"I tell you something," he whispered and leaned closer to Seamus, "there were times when I was practising his sneer in front of a mirror."

Seamus laughed and shook his head with amusement.

"You are so serious. I can't imagine you standing in front of a mirror, mimicking the 'death glare'!"

"Then try. I did it many times."

Seamus shook his head again.

"All right. But I didn't drag you away from that girl just to chat about your Snape-sneer, Qui-Harry. I just... so... you know this year I'm the Quidditch Captain and you... so you are the best seeker we ever had and, look, mate, we thought that you could return to flying."

Harry whirled to face him.

"Seamus!" he said seriously and grabbed his friend's shoulders. "No."

Seamus blinked in surprise and confusion.

"No what?"

"I won't take your place from you. You are the seeker of the team and..."

"Look, Harry. With George, Fred, Angelina and Katie gone, there are only Ron and I in the team and I'm not sure I want to be a seeker. I think I'd like to try to be a Chaser, and there are some open posts for two beaters and two other chasers as well," Seamus said emphatically. "We need you in the team."

"Look, Seamus, I don't know," Harry scratched his neck. "I have a lot of NEWTs classes and I want to concentrate on my studies rather than go to practices every day..."

Seamus's face fell.

"Yeah, I know that's not easy for you, but we need you, and you are bloody brilliant. And I think we can organise our practices so that you won't have to participate every occasion. Please, Harry!"

Harry just groaned in annoyance.

"I don't think I want to do it, Seamus."

"You love to fly, Harry. And now, you have the chance to fly again!" Seamus played his ace against Harry, using the only reason he knew Harry couldn't dismiss.

Harry's face contorted for a short moment, and he nodded slowly, tensely.

"All right, I'll try," he said defeated.

He _really _loved to fly.

***************************************************************************

It took less than a week to prepare his 'test-Pensieve' for Ron, but Harry was totally clueless how to persuade his ex-friend to look into the bowl. Every time he approached Ron he always backed off, although he couldn't understand why. Didn't he want Ron to _see_, to _understand_ what he had done?

Yes, he did, he answered himself, but there were some problems. Showing Ron those memories would be an act of trust, to accept the risk of being exposed to someone, who had tortured and humiliated him in the past, even if he hadn't known that it had been him. It was still hard to be confident with secrets like those hidden in the Pensieve, which was lying next to Harry's bed on the nightstand. Harry sighed in uncertainty.

Perhaps it was not the time to show Ron those memories. Not yet, at least. Perhaps he had to wait some more. Perhaps he should never show him anything. The Pensieve was perfectly prepared, Harry knew, he had checked it many times during its preparation. He had managed to share those memories, and to filter all the moments he wanted to keep secret from Ron. It hadn't been easy: many times he had noticed that a certain memory dragged many other attached memories with itself into the bowl, and Harry had to erase them again and again until only the intended piece remained behind.

It took more than a week to prepare. But now, he wasn't sure he wanted to share them. They contained too many things about Severus, their past relationship, and perhaps too many memories about his pains and fears...

Well, then. He wouldn't show it to Ron, he decided finally and put out almost every torch in the room and sank deep into his bed.

But his work wasn't totally useless: it had many unexpected conclusions concerning the human mind – and now, Harry could understand the Head Healer's explanation about Severus's memory loss better than ever. He didn't have singular memories in his head. His memories formed a complete net in his mind, and every memory was embedded in this net tightly. Not for the first time, Harry wondered how could Severus remain normal after such an enormous memory loss.

Severus...

Harry closed his eyes and began to plan out the net of memories he wanted to place in the Pensieve for Severus.

There would be memories of the last year, that was sure. Memories of common adventures and experiences, memories of playing chess and long conversations, memories of pain and comfort, like the memories of Nightmare Manor. Voldemort, Death Eaters, beatings, humiliation, starvation, the first tentative, uncertain truce, later peace, even later friendship, and the turning points, caused by the common pain, the tortures...

Slashes of razor, Tormenta, Cruciatus, kicks, hits, oh...

Harry suddenly felt as these memories revived in his mind: Death Eaters, black robes moving in the weak torchlight, a mad loud croak, Voldemort's. The Greatest Bastard was disappointed. Deeply, genuinely disappointed.

"_Crucio!_" the spell hit Harry hard, and he couldn't help but yell. "I won't tolerate any more mistakes, Wormtail. I was very, very patient with you, you know," he waved with his wand and the pain of the Cruciatus blew in Harry's chest again. "I tolerated the failure of Snape's escape," a new flick. "I tolerated the failure after their second escape." Now, Pettigrew was bellowing from the top of his lungs at the almost unbearable pain. "I tolerated the failure at Black Manor, and later on the Hogwarts express." New flick, new shriek. "But this news about Potter being alive – it was your fault, only your fault! You cast the Killing Curse on that boy! You should have told me that you owed your life to him!" suddenly, he lowered his hand, and Harry couldn't help but tremble. Somehow, he knew what would happen, but he didn't want to see, no, no, no!

"You ran away in fear, Wormtail, when you learned the news," the snakelike creature hissed in pure wrath. "Did you really think that I would not find you?" he leaned into the thin man's face. "Did you really think you could survive?"

"NO!" Harry shrieked. "No! Don't…!" But nobody heard him

"_Avada Kedavra._"

Voldemort's words were soft, but they hit Harry stronger than ever, and he felt as if something exploded in his chest, more painfully than a Cruciatus could ever be, and he shrieked and shrieked until the darkness came and cocooned his senses in the soft velvet of unconsciousness.

***************************************************************************

"Parvati, go and fetch professor McGonagall," Hermione said in a trembling voice. "Ron, Seamus, Colin, Dean, Neville, help me to break down his door."

Another painful shriek echoed in the slowly filling common room. As the first painful cries sounded in the peaceful evening, Hermione knew that something terrible was going on. She was sitting in the common room, studying alone, when she heard the first cry, and she had immediately tried to break into Harry's room, but she had failed. Harry's door was closed firmly, and the combined use of some locking spells and the anti-girls wards left her impotent enough to look for other help. She broke into the sixth year boy's dormitory and woke up the angry group by grabbing Neville's arm.

"Harry's in pain. Help, please!" she sobbed out and Neville let her drag him into the common room. The others tottered after them.

But by that time almost everybody was awake.

"How do you want to break in? We have to wait for the professor!" Seamus protested.

"Try to cast a spell together," Neville said suddenly, but a loud NO! from the room froze them on the spot. It lasted for several seconds.

"Oh, my God," Dean whispered and Ron turned pale.

"Quiet!" Hermione shrieked and began to bang the door with her fists. "Quiet, wake up! Please, wake up! It's a dream, Quiet, Quiet..." the sob silenced her as she slowly slipped into her knees. "Quiet," now, she was crying in front of the closed door.

Ron crouched next to her and embraced her shoulders.

"Come, Hermione, let the others open the door. You're on their way." Hermione nodded, but she couldn't move. Ron carefully drew her aside.

The shriek suddenly stopped in the closed room, and terrible silence filled the common room, only Hermione's soft cry could be heard.

A loud boom shattered the dumb silence.

"Step aside!" McGonagall's stern voice sounded from the Fat Lady's portrait. The professor hurriedly strode across Harry's door and pointed her wand at it. "Professor Minerva McGonagall, master of this school, commands you to open up, _now_!" she yelled and hit the door with her wand.

The next moment they were in, Hermione right after her professor.

"Quiet!" she cried out when she spotted the thin, curled body next to the bed. "Quiet, are you all right?" she whispered as she knelt next to Harry.

"Be cautious, Miss Granger," McGonagall's words were scared. "We cannot know what happened to him."

Hermione nodded. "We have to bring him to the hospital wing."

With a small wave of her wand, McGonagall conjured a stretcher and moved Harry's limp body onto it.

"Miss Granger, you'll come with me. You, boys, back to your dormitory. Mr Snape will be all right tomorrow," she quickly dismissed the crowd in front of Harry's room. With soft whispering the students faced their staircases and soon disappeared out of Ron's sight.

He didn't go with them.

As his eyes caught sight of Harry's Pensieve he knew that he wouldn't go with them. He had to look into that Pensieve. Yes, he knew that it was not a noble thing, but he wanted to understand, to accept, to take part of his friend's life again at any  prise. Quickly, he closed the door after everybody had left, and stepped closer to the bowl.

He had never touched a Pensieve before. The first had been Harry who had talked to him about Pensieves, when he looked into Dumbledore's in his fourth year.

He didn't have to do anything just look into the silvery mist of the bowl.

He took a deep breath and leaned over the bowl.

First, the silver mist didn't show any sign of life or movement, and Ron leaned closer. With a strong swirl, the next moment he found himself far away from Hogwarts' safety – in time, in place, in body and in soul.

***************************************************************************

Ron was in a dark room, scarcely lit, and he spotted three persons sitting in front of a fireplace. When he stepped closer the sight almost blacked him.

Harry Potter, Severus Snape and Dumbledore were the figures, but Harry... Harry still looked like Harry instead of that... Quietus he had gotten to know last year, and Snape was so strange: his pale face was missing its usual coldness, his eyes were red and the traces of tears were clearly seen on his cheeks.

Ron heard Dumbledore speaking.

"_Exactly. Fudge is under Lucius Malfoy's influence who wants to become the Headmaster of Hogwarts._"

"_But... it would be a disaster!_" cried the memory-Harry horrified.

Suddenly, Dumbledore lifted his eyes towards Ron's general direction. Ron almost jumped in shock.

"_Yes, it would,_" nodded the memory-Dumbledore. "_And on the other hand if I let them know that you are alive they would have questioned you in the Ministry and after Severus..._"

"_I've already told him about the Ministry's ways of investigations. And about my testimony to you too. So you can go on._" Snape was so strange. So human...

"_Well... let me put this way: I didn't want to hand you over them to investigate your case. And if they ever find out that you are still alive..._" ... and Ron knew perfectly well how the Ministry's investigations were. By now, he knew that the event he was watching had happened sometime before the beginning of the fifth year, because Harry was still Harry, but after his captivity, because he and Snape... were sitting so friendly, next to each other, under the same blanket. And both of them had several bruises on their faces, necks, hands. The snakelike scars on Harry's neck were angry red. Ron shuddered.

"_That means... means that I can't be myself any more..._" Harry suddenly muttered. "_Voldemort wants to kill me, the Ministry wants to torture me..._" Ron shuddered again as he thought that he KNEW what would happen some months after. "_I have to go in hiding or I have to disguise myself..._ _Why should I survive at all? I just want a normal life without fear and menace, I don't want to hide, or something like that..._"

Ron stepped closer to offer his help, or to say something to comfort Harry, but then the memory-Snape put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"_Harry, Harry, calm down. I'm sure the Headmaster is up to something. You listen to his idea and after we'll decide together what to do, all right? So, Albus?_"

Ron turned towards the Headmaster, but by now, he knew precisely what the answer would be.

"_I've already done some preparations, Severus. If you accept Harry into your family James' spell will be broken and he will look like he would have been without adoption._"

"_You mean that I'll look like my father?_" the memory-Harry looked totally scared to this idea. Ron suddenly felt ashamed. The whole scene was so... strange. Whenever he thought of Harry's decision before, he had never thought of Harry's situation before. He had never thought that the changes had been shocking to his friend. In the meantime Dumbledore went on.

"_…Only we know the truth. We, the three of us. Nobody else. And I don't want anybody else to learn it._"

"_But... but... what about Ron and Hermione...?_" Harry seemed really stressed. "_They are my friends. They have to know!_"

Ron's jaw fell. Harry _wanted _them to know! Suddenly, he felt so stupid. He had been so selfish! Harry had been tortured and almost died and he, Ron had behaved like a five year old! And everything now was so obvious. It had been a secret, a very dangerous secret – and he really hadn't proven himself worthy to know such secrets.

"_Harry, I know that what I'm talking about sounds ruthless, but you can't tell them. It would be all too dangerous for everybody._" And yes, now finally Ron agreed with the Headmaster. And with every other word he said after that.

"_... Such a knowledge would endanger them seriously... The mere fact that you are friends would be extremely suspicious. You know, Harry, it's not even impossible that they will be questioned about you and your death by the Ministry or by Voldemort just because they were your friends..._"

"_Oh, my God... I've never thought about it..._" Harry whispered. "_But it means that I have to begin everything over again._"

"_You can befriend them again,_" Snape said.

"_Yes, as YOUR son Ron surely will be happy to be befriended by me..._" snapped Harry. "_He has too many prejudices to it. I'll lose him..._"

Harry had known... Ron felt nauseous over his own stupidity in the fact. And Harry had seriously underestimated the situation. He hadn't only lost Ron, but worse, Ron had become his enemy.

Watching the next scenes it became totally clear. Their first meeting in Flourish and Blotts... The first Transfiguration class, when Harry tried to be friendly... Ron's repeated teasing – and there were a lot of them, Ron's falling from the broomstick – Harry's broomstick! Then later the whole story in Hogsmeade, his cruelty, Harry's exposed condition... Now, he could see Harry's panic rising, the hopelessness in his eyes, the fear, the tears of humility and he wanted to bellow at his memory-self, to stop him, to do something, but he couldn't do anything, anything at all, and suddenly, he found himself in a little torture chamber, face-to-face with Voldemort.

For a moment, Ron's heart stopped beating. He wanted to quit, to get out of this special piece of memory, but he couldn't. He was trapped in the memory. He desperately wanted to break free, he was looking for a door, a window to get out of the torture scene, but he couldn't find any. Harry's quiet moaning and the Dark Lord's cutting remarks echoed in his ears. Ron trembled and collapsed to the floor.

Somebody moved next to him, and he heard Voldemort's voice again.

"_I am really happy you finally enjoy it._" Snape stood at his side, but not the Snape he knew from Potions classes. There was a beaten, bloody, dirty, tortured man, weeping as he watched transfixed by something – and Ron followed his eyes and caught Harry's body, and he couldn't restrain himself any more.

"Harry, Harry," he sobbed and stepped to his friend as if he could help him, but he was impotent, totally useless, and the torture went on and on, and after an amount of time, which seemed like days to Ron, he collapsed onto the ground, and the next moment Snape was kneeling next to him, he lifted the torn body carefully in his arms, rested Harry's head on his shoulders, wrapped him with his own clothes and carried him to the cell. Ron followed them. The professor sat into a corner holding Harry in his arms, now crying shamelessly. Ron watched as the man enveloped them in a very dirty cloak, stroked the boy's hair absentmindedly and repeated endlessly-

"_Everything will be all right, Harry, everything will be all right..._" and Ron understood from the voice that Snape had been hopeless, that he had been dreading about Harry, but how could he, Ron, be so cruel? So childish?

"_Harry?_" Ron heard Snape's soft voice.

"_It hurts,_" Harry was trembling, and even Ron trembled in sympathy. "_Everything is burning... All my body... skin..._"

Then Snape did something surprising: he began to rock Harry as a mother rocks her child.

"_Sssssh_. _Try to get some rest._"

"_Professor, I think I will die... I am sorry..._"

"_Everything will be all right, Harry. Just get some rest._ _No, Harry. Everything will be all right. Believe me._"

"_I am sorry..._ _I will leave you alone, and I am sorry for this..._"

"_No, Harry,_" and Snape now was really crying, and it made Ron's heart clench in pain, and he sat down next to them and cried, like Snape cried, soundlessly, deeply, grieving over his past mistakes, his sins, which totally separated him from Harry, perhaps for once and for all.

And another feeling emerged his chest: a tiny piece of hope. Hope, that Snape would see these memories and would understand and accept Harry again, because that man he was sitting next to, was a man worthy of love, of Harry's love, and Harry needed the comfort only he could offer him, because those days in Voldemort's hell had bound them together...

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Next: weekend.


	11. Nevermore

Betaed by Barbara

Warning: angst

OMG, another chapter. I go to bed. I won't return here until Wednesday. Good night!

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Chapter 11 – Nevermore

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McGonagall's first deed after Harry's infamous nightmare was that she changed the wards around Harry's room so that Hermione would always have free access.

Harry's first deed after his release was that the he created some new wards around his room in order to preserve some privacy, and cast some strong Silencing Spells. He indeed acted wisely: the nightmares and visions didn't stop, and he really didn't want his housemates to know about them. They couldn't do anything to stop them, Madam Pomfrey couldn't give him anything to prevent them, Severus didn't care and Harry didn't need anybody's fuss over him. However, almost every morning his first walk led to the Headmaster's office and told him everything he learned about Voldemort's plans in the visions. The nightmares were his own problem, he never talked about them to anybody, only Hermione knew of their existence.

Oh, And Severus, but he really didn't matter. Not any more.

As time went by and September turned to October, Harry felt more and more tired. He could barely get a good night sleep, he was always overloaded with homework and on top of all this were the Quidditch practices, which he was compelled to attend notwithstanding Seamus's previous promises. And nobody seemed to notice his state, except for Hermione, but... There was a little problem. He and Hermione had a few disgusting rows after Harry returned from the Infirmary.

"You shouldn't have let everybody know what a wretch I am!" he had shouted to his friend. "I hate that I'm always the centre of their attention, now I can be the centre of their pity as well... I hate it! Why did you do it? Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"But Quiet... you were shrieking and suffering... I was so scared..." Hermione had stuttered.

"I don't care!" Harry had yelled back. "I hate that you all think you have the right to interfere in my life! NO! My life is my business and stay out of it!"

"But..."

"No buts! Leave me alone!" Harry had said and left Hermione rooted on the spot in a hall next to the Transfiguration classroom.

That had been the first one, closely followed by similar fights, and finally Harry had really managed to hurt Hermione. Since that he had been comfortably left alone.

Yes, Harry knew precisely that Hermione had just wanted to help. But the fact that almost every student of the school had begun to cast pitying glances in his direction irritated him to no end. He wasn't a weakling! He didn't need anybody's pity!

But the tiredness remained and Harry had soon noticed that he couldn't keep up with his classes anymore. The first warning sign happened to him in a History of Magic class, when he fell asleep. And since the Advanced History was a small class, only five sixth years attended it, even professor Binns couldn't not catch him sleeping on his desk.

"Miss Garnier, please, wake Mr Snape up," he told Hermione and stepped closer to Harry. "And escort him to the Infirmary."

To professor Binns Harry's sleeping in his class was the clear sign that he was ill. Harry woke with a start when Hermione slightly squeezed his shoulder, and he was so tired that he couldn't do anything but go with the girl. Just once they were in the Infirmary, Harry began to protest and finally they returned to the History class together. The embarrassment the situation caused was strong enough not to let Harry fall asleep again, but by the end of the next Charms class he suspected he had to find some solution to his problem, because he couldn't remember anything they had learned in that lesson.

At lunch, Harry sat next to Ares.

"You look awful," his friend commented. "What happened? Another nightmare?"

"No," Harry lied and leaned over his soup. "The studies."

"Ah," Ares nodded. "I see. But then, perhaps, you should drop some of your classes. History, or Herbology..."

"Those are the less problematic ones," Harry murmured back. "And the others are too important to drop."

Ares lowered his fork.

"And what happened between you and Hermione? She seems to be avoiding you."

"It's none of your business," he couldn't help but snap. "Ask her," he added and jumping to his feet stalked out of the hall, his lunch interrupted.

Some moments later he knew how stupidly he had behaved, but then, he didn't feel strong enough to return to the great hall, and his appetite was nonexistent anyway. He hit the wall with his fist in rage.

"Shit," he said as the solid stone met his fingers. "Shit," he repeated as tears of sudden pain and irritation began to prickle his eyelashes.

"Harry?" a tentative voice from behind. He sighed.

"Yes, Ron?"

His ex-friend shifted uncomfortably.

"I saw you leaving the hall in haste. I just wanted to ask if I could help you."

"No, you can't," Harry answered coldly without turning around.

"All right then," Ron said and his footfalls showed Harry that he left. For a short moment, Harry thought Ron was offended, but the tone of his voice hadn't showed any sign of it. It was calm and understanding, something absolutely un-Ronish, and Harry really felt a little bit taken aback.

Did Ron begin to grow up? Harry mused to himself. Really, Ron's behaviour in the last days seemed much more mature than ever before. Unlike his housemates, he had always let Harry be, hadn't asked stupid questions, hadn't cast worrying glances, and this was the first occasion that he had offered help, and when he had felt Harry's reluctance he hadn't pressed him furthermore. For the first time in months Harry thought that perhaps, he would accept his apology. He owed to Fred, and perhaps accepting Ron's tentative helping hand could be a kind of repaying to him.

What could cause Ron's sudden turnaround? Had it been that blasted vision-accident? Or Fred's death? No, they had had a conversation after the funeral, and Ron hadn't seemed to understand. Harry finally gave up. Ron changed. That was the important fact.

Harry, wanting to test Ron's newfound understanding, decided to sit next to him during Advanced Transfiguration, since Hermione was understandably mad with him, and Neville, not surprisingly chose Parvati's companionship over his. Ron lifted an eyebrow, when Harry slipped next to him, but didn't protest.

"Hi, Ron," Harry breathed. "Don't you mind if I sit here?"

"No, of course," Ron replied softly. "It's a honour to me."

"You're mocking me!" Harry cracked a half-smile.

"No," Ron answered seriously. "I'm just glad, _Quietus_," he put an accent to the last word.

"_Quietus?_" Harry looked at him questioningly.

"Quietus," Ron nodded firmly.

They were staring at each other for long moments wordlessly. McGonagall's arrival snapped them out of this strange trance.

"Now, that we finally finished revising the normal level transfiguration spells and theories, I want you to do some serious preparation for the coming months. The spells we will learn and use are extremely exhausting both physically and mentally. Those who are sitting in this class," he looked around seriously, "surely remember the last year's curriculum, which contained quite a lot of theoretical work about magical and non-magical transfiguration and cross-transfiguration between the two. In this year, we will actually learn how to cast these spells. But," she stopped and her face became much more serious, "this work will require good physical and mental condition. Good," she repeated and looked at Harry straight. "So I suggest being prepared by the first week of November, when the actual transfiguration work will start."

Harry sighed. He could understand perfectly the professor's implication. But there were some problems. He couldn't sleep and he had no appetite. And he knew that his physical condition was everything but good.

He was still thinking about this, when the professor stopped him after class.

"Mr Snape, for a moment."

Harry lowered his head and remained behind. He should have known...

"Yes, professor?"

"I'm really sorry, Mr Snape, but I don't think you are in proper physical condition to..."

"No!" Harry's head jerked up. "I will be by November, I promise! I don't want to quit another Advanced class, please..."

McGonagall sighed and tilted her head.

"I didn't mean the lesson."

Harry's curiosity finally won over his shame and he looked into her eyes.

"Then, what?"

"I don't think it's wise for you to play Quidditch."

Harry shook his head.

"It wasn't entirely my choice, professor," he said unhappily. "But I think the team needs me. I don't want to leave them. Almost everybody is new in the team, Ron's the only one who remained in the same position, Seamus now plays Chaser, and he is quite uncomfortable in his new role, the beaters, although they are pretty good, they feel comfortable more on the ground than on a broomstick, the three chasers are totally unable to synchronize their moves, our captain has been playing Quidditch only for one year, like Ron... And our first match with Ravenclaw will be in ten days." Harry inhaled deeply and frowned. "I can't quit. Not now, and perhaps not this year. I owe it to them. I agreed to play, professor."

McGonagall's face was suddenly sad. Sad and very, very tired.

"You didn't sound as if you wanted to play, Mr Snape," she said after a while.

"Because I didn't really want to," Harry answered simply. "I still don't know why I agreed to play again..."

"What about your broomstick? If I know correctly Mr Weasley's using yours. Do you plan to take it back?"

"Are you joking, professor?" Harry's expression was not only a little taken aback. "I'm one of the bloody owners of Shell Magical International, the heir of the Potter family and so on!" he snapped. He hated to be rich. He hated, because there was one thing he couldn't buy with money: love. To be precise: Severus's love.

"Language, Mr Snape," McGonagall lifted her index finger, but her eyes were smiling. "So what about that broomstick?"

Harry shrugged.

"I will receive it tomorrow. A Nimbus 2100."

"Nimbus? Why didn't you choose another Firebolt?"

"It would be unfair towards the other players," Harry answered softly.

"But Mr Weasley..."

"He didn't have to best his opponents in racing. It's not that unfair this way."

"I see," McGonagall finally cracked a genuine smile, but her expression darkened again. "Mr Snape, it still doesn't mean that you don't have to prepare yourself better for the future Transfiguration classes. You have to find to eat and to sleep more."

"I know!" Harry cried out. "But how?" he added angrily.

"Surely, a Dreamless Sleep..."

"I had to stop it long ago," Harry interrupted her. "I almost became addicted."

"Then how could you manage last year?"

Harry nearly opened his mouth to answer, but the words got stuck in his throat. Should he say: '_I had been sleeping with Severus_'? The mere idea of uttering these words turned his face a bright crimson. He suddenly didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

"Severus helped me," he choked out with difficulty.

To his luck, his professor misread his blush thinking it to be a sign of his sorrow, and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I know that it's extremely hard to be separated from him, but you have to find your own way to cope..."

"I'm trying," Harry whispered. "But, somehow, it's so hard..."

They walked to the great hall together, silently.

That night, Harry had another vision.

It began with the usual torture and pain: Voldemort became more and more aware that somebody is preying on his secrets, he suspected a spy amongst his followers, and Severus had indeed been right: the old paranoid didn't trust in Veritaserum, just in pain. Harry was horrified when he realised that Voldemort's pathologic fear of truth serum would cause more pain to him than he could ever imagine.

After more than two hours of physical torture and one Killing curse, Voldemort stopped the investigations, and released the majority of his followers, keeping behind only the Inner Circle, his most devoted minions.

"And now, that we are free of spies and enemies, and nobody has the chance to alert the Ministry officials, we'll go and free my most cunning servant from Liberty," Voldemort almost spat the last word, and for the first time in his life, Harry agreed. What a twisted idea to call a prison _freedom_? But he had no time to meditate on twisted words and intents: as the Dark Lord's wrath began to fade, his connection with Harry loosened as well and soon, Harry found himself lying next to his bed, his pyjamas wet with cold sweat, his muscles aching, his whole body trembling in aftershock.

But Harry didn't have time to hesitate or wait until the pain lessened. He pushed himself to his feet and collecting all of his willpower, he put on a sweater and departed toward the Headmaster's office.

The common room was empty and shady, only the angry red embers in the fireplace emanated some light. Harry shuddered as the cool air of the big room infiltrated through his wet clothes. He climbed through the portrait of the Pink Lady and he had to stop to suck some air. He was in pain. With a deep sigh, he pushed himself ahead; tottering, he left behind the Gryffindor tower and the Transfiguration classroom, when he had to stop again. He wasn't sure he could make another step on his trembling feet. He leaned against the wall cursing silently his weakness, and trembling in exhaustion, pain and cold, when an even colder voice sounded behind him.

"A walk after curfew, Mr Potter?"

Shit, Harry thought. Just in time, the renewed git caught him.

"I have to go to the Headmaster," he said through his clapping teeth.

"You have to return to your dormitory, Po..."

"I'm not a Potter, and I have to find the Headmaster now!" Harry said a little bit more emphatically and pushed himself from the wall.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor and..." but Severus couldn't finish. Harry's legs finally gave out and he collapsed on the ground moaning in pain. "Stand up, boy!"

"I would if I could..." Harry snapped.

"Potter!" Severus cried angrily.

"Still a Snape!"

"What's going on here?" a female voice. Harry sighed in relief. They were in front of McGonagall's personal chambers.

"Potter is..." Severus began but Harry simply ignored him and he had the strategic advantage as well: as soon as his Head of House caught sight of him trembling on the floor, she hurried next to him and crouched down.

"Voldemort is about to free Malfoy from Liberty tonight," Harry said and coughed. "I don't know whether he will be there or not, but if not, then only the Inner Circle will go, about twenty people. We need to alert the Ministry."

McGonagall nodded and stood up.

"Severus, escort Mr..." McGonagall looked at them, "your nephew to the Infirmary and tell Poppy to be ready. I have to find the Headmaster."

"But..." Severus wanted to protest, but McGonagall was the faster and she disappeared around a nearby corner. The Potions Master sighed. "Stand up, boy."

Harry didn't answer, just released a short, sarcastic laugh. He had been struggling to stand up for minutes and Severus hadn't even realised it!

"I said stand up!" the man yelled angrily and grabbed Harry's arm. Harry shrieked as a strong grip closed around his abused muscles.

"Let my arm go!" and tried to pull out of the strong hand. "You are hurting me!"

"Stand up then!"

"I can't, can't you see?" but the iron-strong grip pulled him to his feet. Harry wanted to cry. "Let me go!"

Severus didn't answer, instead he began to drag Harry towards the Infirmary.

"LET MY ARM GO!" Harry finally shrieked from the top of his lungs.

"NO!" Severus bellowed back.

"Why?" Harry's voice was suddenly soft and weak. "You are hurting me."

"Don't be a cry-baby, boy," Severus said mockingly.

"Bastard," Harry hissed. The next moment Snape whirled him to the wall and leaned close to his face.

"That's thirty points from Gryffindor, Potter. And..."

"Do you want to hit me? Then do so!" Harry said calmly. "I don't mind. Just let my arm go, you sadistic bastard."

Harry knew that his words were inappropriate and rude. But red circles were hopping and jumping in front of his eyes and cold fire was burning the place on his arm Severus was gripping. He couldn't help. He was in pain and he was desperate.

The hand on his arm remained. The only reaction was Snape's even stronger grip. Harry yelped and couldn't restrain his tears.

"Bastard, bastard, bastard," he said as if in a trance while the man hauled him towards the Hospital Wing. In the general coldness he felt his tears on his face extremely hot. They were burning his sweaty flesh. The trip seemed endless, the world went blurry around him. He wasn't entirely conscious when finally he was pushed on a bed, and somebody yelled '_Poppy, come!_' and comfortable darkness fell on him.

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"Harry, are you okay?"

First, Harry thought he heard Hermione's voice, but when the mysterious somebody repeated the question, he recognised the voice as Erica's. He groaned in anger and disappointment.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with eyes shut.

"I wanted to see if you were all right."

"I am. You saw me. Now go."

"Don't be so rude, Harry!"

"Why not?" he opened his eyes and looked into Erica's who was leaning over him. "I feel terrible. And you are here without my invitation..."

"I was worried about you," the girl said.

"Worried?" Harry furrowed his brows in fury. "You don't need to worry about me. We are not close enough for you to be worried."

"Oh, Harry," Erica smiled, "can't you see that I care about you?"

Harry suddenly sat up.

"No, I can't," he barked. "I can see that you are after me and that you want to go out with me, although I don't know why, but look, I'm not interested."

"But..." Erica's smile disappeared.

"No buts. I'm not interested.

"All right then," Erica jumped to her feet. "But you are mistaken if you believe that that mudblood girl will be your girlfriend. She is..."

"Shut up!" Harry yelled at her. "And never, NEVER dare to say mudblood again in my presence!"

Erica's face flushed.

"You are a pureblood!"

"Just like you, idiot!" Harry suddenly wanted to hit her. "My mother was a muggleborn just like yours!"

"Wha- what?" the girl stuttered. "How...?"

"You're an idiot," Harry slumped back to his bed. "Voldemort was after you because of a prophecy about a descendant of a muggleborn and a pureblood or such nonsense. It means that your mother was a muggleborn like mine. Am I right?"

Erica didn't answer, just averted her glance.

"So, I am indeed right. Then you are more stupid than I thought. You wanted to please me with this pureblood rubbish?"

A shrug.

"So, you're not interested," the girl said coldly. "Then, I'll go now."

"Just do it," Harry smirked and watched her leave the hospital wing. He shook his head. Such sheer stupidity!

Madam Pomfrey's arrival interrupted his musings. The nurse stopped at his bedside and leaned over him.

"Do you feel better, Mr Snape?"

"Yes, thanks," Harry answered. "I'm okay..."

"Well, I want to see those scars of yours," the woman said. "I have to check..."

"I don't think that's important," Harry quickly interrupted her. "They are okay."

The nurse put her hands on her hips.

"It's my task to decide whether they are okay or not, young man. So, remove your pyjama top, I want to examine you more closely."

Harry sighed, but obeyed. There was no point in resisting: she knew about his scars anyway.

"Glamourie again, darling?" the woman shook her head as she looked at Harry's flawless skin.

"I hate them being visible," Harry muttered annoyed.

The nurse nodded and cast a Revealing Charm on him.

"Oh," she said. "Your scars are really _okay_," she mimicked Harry's previous muttering, "but there is an ugly bruise on your arm. Let me see..." she cautiously touched the abused flesh and Harry hissed. "Does it hurt?"

A nod.

Madam Pomfrey looked at Harry in thought.

"Who was it?" she asked quietly.

"It's not interesting," Harry gulped. "It's nothing."

"Your muscles are seriously damaged."

"Well, I had a fight, but I don't..."

"When?" the woman interrupted him.

"Yesterday evening."

"Before your vision?" Harry nodded again to her question. "Who did you meet after your vision?"

"Professor Snape and professor McGonagall. Why?"

"Who brought you here? It was Severus, wasn't it?" Madam Pomfrey slowly became angry, Harry could see the signs on her cheeks and narrowed eyes.

"Yes," he muttered.

"It was he then, wasn't it?"

"Who?" Harry answered the question with another question, although he knew what the nurse was thinking about.

"It was Severus who did this," she pointed to Harry's arm, "to you."

Harry didn't say a word, just lowered his eyes to his hands in his lap. He could hear the woman leaving and later returning with a salve. She cautiously dribbled it on the bruise.

"It will hurt for some days. The strong grip damaged the extremely tense muscles, so try not to use them for a while, all right?"

Harry made a tense nod and put his pyjama top back on.

"May I go now?"

The nurse rolled her eyes, but with a short wave of her hand towards the door ushered Harry out of the Infirmary.

"You may go."

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The Headmaster's office was empty when Severus arrived. The Potions Master grunted in annoyance and sat down in one of the stuffed armchairs, which were standing in front of the massive working desk, overstuffed by documents, files, inkstands with different colours of inks, quills and some of those little silvery things the old man loved so much. Sitting in the armchair, Severus suddenly realised that he had never been in this office alone, or better to say he had no memories of being in the office alone... Which was indisputably strange considering the fact that he had been teaching in the school for almost twenty years. This fact, somehow, strengthened his suspicions that he had never been Dumbledore's trusted man, not to mention friend... And now, this feeling enraged him, although in the past he had always felt sadness when he considered this fact.

He had never been trustworthy enough to let him in on Potter's secret, he had always been ordered around like a snivelling child: do this, do that, protect him, and go if you are ready, if you are prepared... Prepared! It was a miracle Voldemort hadn't killed him on the spot right after he arrived on that fateful night... and later, when he had been called again to kill, to show his true loyalties...

Perhaps he should be more grateful towards Potter that the brat had spared him the further spying? Oh, of course, he would never know if that little tale about their captivity and escape had been true. His memories were gone forever, he knew precisely now, and he had suspected it in the hospital after Cassia's long and futile attempts to revive some of the Obliviated parts of his memory.

Suddenly, the fireplace hummed and threw out so many sparks into the room that Severus felt blinded by the sudden gleam. The next moment he found himself face-to-face with an extremely angry Dumbledore.

The expression on the old man's face scared Severus, even if he would never confess it.

"Severus," the Headmaster's voice was surprisingly cold and low. "What did you do to Harry last night?"

"I took the brat to the Infirmary as Minerva ordered me to do," he answered, his voice's coldness matching the Headmaster's.

"I'm not sure Minerva _ordered _you to hurt the boy, who was in pain, even further," Severus looked into the older man's eyes. The deep blue orbs were now icy like the North Pole.

"Did your little golden pawn complain about my treatment, Albus?"

"Severus!" suddenly, Dumbledore's wrath filled the room, and froze the Potions Master's blood. Now, he could understand clearly the reason why the Dark Lord feared the Headmaster so much. "No, Harry didn't complain. But you," Dumbledore stepped closer, and Severus in that moment was more afraid of him than he had ever been of Voldemort, "you wounded him."

"Rubbish, Albus," he creaked, but without his usual firmness.

"Rubbish?" the man's eyes were thundering. "The boy was suffering under the after-effects of various curses, mostly Cruciatus, his whole muscular system was in shock and tense, and your tender hold seriously damaged his right arm's muscles so much that Poppy had to treat them – and Harry will be in pain for several days! What did you think you were doing?"

The question was somehow hanging in the mere air, and there was complete silence in the office. Finally, it was the older man, who broke it.

"Whatever you thought, I will take disciplinary action against you."

Severus furrowed his eyebrows.

"Do you want to fire me, Headmaster?" he asked icily.

The old man's voice again matched his polar tone.

"I'm really tempted to do that, professor. But I'm afraid that would be murder under these circumstances. Instead, I will give you some rules, and if I ever hear you breaking them you will be fired, murder or not."

"I'm listening," the Potions Master's voice was flat and emotionless.

"First: never approach Harry again. If you lay a finger on him..." he didn't continue, but Severus flinched. He had most definitely never heard Dumbledore threatening somebody. "Second: you will be less harsh on your students. I think mostly of young Mr Longbottom. He is not responsible for his father's deeds against you. Third: you are suspended as the Head of the Slytherin House."

"But Albus," Severus was suddenly caught off guard by the last sentence.

"No. Apparently, you are not responsible enough to look after children. Your biased and irresponsible behaviour caused a student a serious physical harm. I cannot afford it in this school. Oh, and your salary will be reduced by 30%. The final decision in your case, of course, will be made by the Board."

"Albus, I..." Severus tried to choke out some apologies, or some explanations, but the Headmaster lifted his hand stopping him.

"You are dismissed now, professor."

Severus felt the world swirling around him. Dismissed? Suspended? But... why?

Yes, he had been a little harsh with the Potter brat yesterday, but... oh, well. The Headmaster preferred the brat to him. It was nothing unexpected. Albus's Golden Boy, the most precious Gryffindor!

As he left the office his shock slowly changed into a deeper and deeper anger so that by the time he reached his personal quarters he was ready to explode.

Again!

So, he was good enough to look after the brat, while he had been cheated, he was good enough to spy, to work for the Order, to risk his life, to teach, to brew potions, to... his thoughts were spiralling in his head.

Damn everybody in this school! Damn Voldemort that he couldn't simply quit! Damn his youth decision to join that monster! Damn the whole life he was compelled to leave!

He stepped into the kitchenette and grabbed the whole bottle of Firewhisky from the fridge. He took a glass from the kitchen cabinet and pouring a full glass of whisky he gulped it with one, big swallow. The alcohol almost immediately spread in his system, and inflamed his senses. And his anger even more.

The brat, again! He ruined Severus's whole life and reputation! What would his colleagues say if they heard about the disciplinary action? What would his students say if they heard about his suspension? What would the Ministry think if they heard about his 'abusive behaviour'? Ha had barely escaped a life-long sentence in Azkaban! Would they put him in prison, again?

Desperation and rage mixed in him.

And everything because of that damned bastard boy of his mystical brother!

Damn it!

He poured the second glass into his mouth, and with a strong fling he threw the glass against the wall, where it shattered into millions of little pieces. He grabbed the bottle and marched into the living room. He felt as the alcohol began to rampage in his body, and took another long sip.

And then, somebody was knocking on his door.

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Harry was very anxious. The Pensieve was finally ready. Harry didn't really know what to want from it and from its showing to Severus, but there was hope in his heart, a hope that Severus would look into it and would understand and believe his sincerity, his love.

Perhaps, even if their relationship would never be the same again, the man would accept him, and would call him by his name.

And perhaps, but this was a very, very tiny hope, he could regain the whole thing they had once shared.

He put the Pensieve into a box and sealed it cautiously, before grabbing it and making his way towards the oh-so-familiar dungeons. Severus had been very rude to him yesterday. Now, Harry hoped that the man's guilt would help him to accept the Pensieve, to look into it...

So he went.

He pressed the box tightly to his chest with his left hand, his right arm still throbbing in dull pain. Surely, Severus hadn't known what he had been doing yesterday night. The man hadn't known Harry previously suffered some nasty tormenting curses. And he was upset as well. Harry knew, Severus still blamed him and Dumbledore and felt cheated.

But perhaps now...

He stopped in front of the door – he didn't even try to press his finger on the white dot, he knew he wouldn't be able to open it – and knocked politely.

***************************************************************************

Suppressing a strong wish to curse aloud Severus placed the bottle on the coffee table, stormed to the door and with a quick, but forceful movement opened it.

The brat.

***************************************************************************

When Harry later tried to remember what had happened after Snape opened the door, he found that he couldn't recall precisely the things. The first thing was clear: the man grabbed the folds of his robe and pulling him inside, he closed the door and cast a silencing charm – all happened in one moment. Harry hadn't even managed to open his mouth, and Severus was leaning over him and bellowing something about suspension and disciplinary action, about irresponsible behaviour and cheeky idiot teenagers – Harry really hadn't understood a word.

But he could smell the whisky in Severus's breath and it had terrified him.

Severus wasn't _that _kind.

Or perhaps, he was.

The man, however, hadn't touched him.

After ten minutes of harsh reprimanding the man had finally asked him.

"And, if I can ask, what do you think you're doing here?"

Harry, without a word, handed over the box. It had shut the man up for a moment, but he had ripped it open and casting a look inside he took out the Pensieve. The next moment the heavy, stone bowl had been thrown to the wall with such force Harry had never seen before.

"What do you think you are playing at, boy? Why do you think I will believe your newest way of manipulating me? Spare me your lies!" the man bellowed, but Harry couldn't hear it any more: as if he had been watching a slow-motion film he seen the bowl slamming against the wall and smashing into pieces, while its content as a viscous fluid, slowly flowed down the wall, and while it flowed began to evaporate until nothing remained behind, nothing, absolutely nothing, like their once-been relationship, which now seemed like nothing more than a distant dream, and Harry had felt his insides shattering and crumbling again, and all of a sudden, nothing, _absolutely _nothing remained in his heart towards Severus, nothing positive, just the unjustness of the whole situation, the old wounds and pains he had received, the past erupted with such force, that it almost suffocated Harry.

He had lifted his eyes from the pieces of the bowl and looked at the man before him.

"I hate you," he had simply said.

And had left.

Somehow, after their confrontation his weakness evaporated, like the memories, and he didn't feel the urge to cry. He felt much better than in weeks, as if some part of his life had been closed once and for all, as if a long delayed decision had finally been made.

Their relationship was over.

Before dinner, Dumbledore caught him.

"Harry, please, for a word."

"What happened? Was the attack successful?"

"No," Dumbledore smiled weakly. "We managed to block them. In the meantime Lucius Malfoy was deprived of his magic, and I don't think he will ever been useful to Voldemort again."

"Oh," Harry was relieved. "I'm happy to hear it," he added.

"But I didn't want to talk about him."

Harry stopped and turned to the old man.

"What then?"

"It's Severus..."

"No," Harry cut him off steadily. "I'm not interested."

"I want to tell you first."

"You don't need to, Headmaster. He is..." Harry stopped for a moment, thinking, "he means nothing to me. Not any more."

Was it Harry's imagination that Dumbledore's expression changed into a closed one? He didn't know precisely, but every sign of joy and happiness disappeared from the aged face, just sadness and some unbearable seriousness remained behind.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

"Nothing," Harry shook his head. "Just... it was enough I think. Absolutely, perfectly enough. Madam Cassia told me that she sees no hope for Se... for him to recover. And he... he has changed. And now, he hates me. I realised I couldn't change him back. So I decided to leave him alone. I don't want any more humiliating, ridiculing... It was enough."

"Was it Severus's aggression, which...?" Dumbledore pointed to Harry's right arm. Harry nodded.

"Yes."

And really, that was the reason. Or, at least one of them.

"Harry, you have to know that it's not his fault, not entirely..."

Harry shrugged.

"That's not important. He is another person now and he will remain this person. I don't want my presence to be forced on him, and most definitely I don't want his presence close to me anymore, even if it's not his fault. However, I disagree. He is an adult. He should be more mature."

Dumbledore sighed.

"You know, the Memory Charm corrupted his emo..."

"...tions, of course I know!" Harry snapped angrily. "But an adult has to know how to use his common sense even in those cases they are emotionally involved in! He had more than a month to get used to the idea that I, Harry Potter or whatever, am related to him! But he decided to ignore the fact, he never tried to come in terms with it, and his whole attitude is proof for me that you were right when you said we mustn't tell him the truth. I tried to explain. I apologised. But I won't do any more steps toward him. I'm not interested any more."

His previous coolness disappeared and he felt rage instead.

"Now, excuse me, Headmaster," he wasn't able to talk about Severus any more. Dumbledore nodded and he left.

But not long after he said good-bye to the old man, he felt a strong grip on his arm, his still aching arm, and somebody pulled him into a dark corridor with such strength that he fell to his knees. The pain in his arm was excruciating, and he had to fight not to cry out showing his weakness.

Malfoy was standing over him, a wand in his outstretched hand, pointed to Harry.

"Whatever your precious uncle says, Snape, you are indeed my cousin. I can't kill you. I can't even harm you as badly as I'd wish," he leaned so much closer that Harry could feel his breath on his face. "But I will find the proper way to revenge for my father. I know, the Dark Lord knows that you were the spy, and believe me, our little discovery won't remain hidden from you."

"What are you babbling about?" Harry spat angrily, but the strong grip restrained him from any aggressive movement.

"I will kill you, believe me, I will find the way. But until I can do it... You will learn what pain, real pain means!"

"Idiot," Harry freed his arm and inhaled deeply. "I know what pain is. I will not be intimidated by your little show! You can't do anything against me!"

Malfoy, this time, not only smirked, but laughed out loudly.

"No? And what about those little dreams of yours?"

And before Harry could answer, he swept out of the dark hall. Harry, pressing his throbbing arm to his chest, just sat there for long, very long minutes. He suddenly wasn't sure he wanted to live any more.

And the next morning, Dumbledore announced that Draco Malfoy wasn't a Hogwarts student any more. He had left.

And some days later, Harry was forced to see as a very determined young man killed his first victim, and reached out his arm to receive the Mark he could never wash away.

***************************************************************************

Wednesday, then?


	12. The escaping information

Betaed by Barbara

Sorry for the delay. It was a common (my and Barbara's) problem, the chapter was ready on Monday, but I had no time to send it and so on... But now: enjoy.

And about your wishes: I WON'T tell you about the end! However, If I remember correctly, somewhere during the last months I mentioned something about it, apparently you missed that short remark – and I hope you will NOT find it and so, the end will be a surprise for everybody.

**No Occlumency! While the idea is more than intriguing, I resisted. :-P**

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Chapter 12 – The escaping information 

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Harry was still under the influence of the shock the Headmaster's words caused him. Malfoy was gone. He had left. He would never return to study here.

Yes, Harry didn't like Malfoy, not at all, never, even for a moment, but he could feel the decision's weight and its silent implications. Malfoy had gone to be trained to be his father's heir in Voldemort's circle, Harry knew precisely, even if the cover story said that the blonde changed schools and went to finish his studies at a not too famous Irish wizarding school.

Malfoy's threatening hadn't been a lie, Harry thought, and he almost missed the second half of the Headmaster short speech.

"... and I have to announce that professor Snape is no longer the Head of the Slytherin House, so I ask you, Slytherins, if you have problems go and speak to professor Vector about them," with that, the Headmaster waved towards the stern witch sitting next to McGonagall.

Harry's jaw fell. Dumbledore didn't say anything detailed, but he was sure that this... change was somehow related to him, that this was the thing the old man wanted to tell him the day before. And he didn't listen. Harry lifted his eyes to the Head table and looked at Severus. The man's cheeks were red with humiliation as he returned Harry's glance with an intense hatred: his eyes almost pierced the boy's skull, his mouth curled into a disgusted sneer.

Severus blamed him.

Involuntarily, Harry's left hand hugged his throbbing right arm to his chest and averted his glance. The next thing he heard was a loud bang as a chair fell back, and the opening and closing of a door in the back of the hall. He didn't need to look up to know what had happened. Severus had left the room.

The news shocked everybody in the hall. Soon after Severus's short scene, conversations broke the silence as students leaned closer to each other.

"Is it possible...?"

"Did you hear about Malfoy's father...?"

"They were friends..."

"Dumbledore wants to fire Snape..."

"Do you know what happened?"

"They said that he is suspended, and now his old friend, Malfoy is not a member of the board..."

"... last year, he was so civil, and now..."

"... is it somehow related to Potter?"

And so on. Harry, again, had to face the problem that he couldn't eat. The news took his little appetite, so he pushed his plate away from himself and stood up.

"Harry?" Hermione touched his arm. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he whispered and shook his head. "I don't know..."

"There should be a reason..."

"I don't know," Harry cut her off. "Ask Dumbledore." He didn't know why he was so rigid and cold with her. She just wanted to help, he knew, but he didn't want help, anybody's help... Hissing at the dull pain he grabbed his bag and pulled it over his back. "I'm leaving now."

"Wait," Hermione stood up. "I'll go with you."

"You don't need..." Harry began, but the girl ignored his protest.

"We both have Arithmancy now, don't you remember?"

Harry groaned in frustration, but waited for the girl nevertheless. He also tried to brace himself for the incoming questions. But there weren't any of _that _kind.

"What do you think about those double-coded magical texts the professor showed us last week?" Harry cast a surprised look at her, then shrugged.

"I didn't have time to think about them," he answered truthfully.

"Your grades are lower now," Hermione replied. "You should spend more time with your studies."

Anger swelled in Harry's chest at the girl's words.

"Don't preach at me," he hissed.

"I don't preach you," Hermione sighed. "It's just... scary to see as..."

"Leave me alone!" Harry snapped. "My grades are my business, not yours!"

"I know, but..."

"NO!" Harry stopped and turned face-to-face to Hermione. "I don't want your fuss around me! It's annoying, can't you see? I know what I'm doing, I don't need your wise advice!"

Hermione's face flushed and she narrowed her eyes.

"I just wanted to help!" she cried out impatiently. "Why don't you listen?"

"To what?" Harry barked darkly. "I don't need your help. And I'm not a little boy to be ordered around!"

"I didn't mean that!" Hermione began to lose the last shreds of her patience. "Stubborn git!"

"Stupid bitch!" Harry retorted. Hermione paled.

"Take it back," she hissed and stepped closer to Harry. "Take it back or..."

"Or what?" Harry smirked sarcastically. "What will you silly-billy girl do to..."

CLAP! The slap was sudden and unexpected. Harry, almost in a daze, lifted his hand and touched his face where Hermione had slapped him.

"You..." he began, but the girl was already several feet away.

"Don't dare to talk to me that way again!" she said without turning back. "And don't come to talk until you get it into that your thick head of yours who are your friends and who are your enemies!"

Harry shaking his head, followed her into the classroom. He wanted to sit in his usual place next to Ares, but to his surprise, Hermione was already sitting there, and none of his friends showed any willingness to look at him either. He stopped in the door and glanced around. There was two empty places only: Hermione's old one next to Padma Patil, and Malfoy's, but somehow, Harry didn't want to sit in his archenemy's chair. Inhaling deeply, he stepped up to Padma and cracked an almost apologetic smile.

"Uhm... er... may I sit here?"

"Of course," she answered and smiled back. It sent some chills up Harry's spine. He didn't like that smile, it was all too similar to Erica's, it had an uncertain, predatory edge, which nearly made him recoil. The thought of Erica started another line of thoughts in his mind: Harry had seen her that morning arriving to the great hall with the Slytherin group he detested most: with Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini, hand in hand with the rat-like Slytherin boy, the ex-slave of Malfoy and his gang. When Harry had cast an apprehending glance towards her direction, she just smirked with superiority and leaning closer to Blaise, she had whispered something to his ears. The Slytherin had smirked and lifted an eyebrow at Harry. The memory angered him even now, so he forced himself to sit down and pulled out his books.

"What did Snape do that Dumbledore suspended him?" the Patil girl leaned closer intimately. "Is it true that he abused a student?"

Harry's face darkened, but struggled to keep his voice low.

"I don't know," he said in his best neutral tone. "And I don't think it's your business by the way."

"Ah," the girl cracked a short, embarrassed smile. "Yeah... you're probably right," and began to leaf through her Arithmancy book.

Harry released a relieved breath, and quietly, he muttered to he-

"Look, I didn't want to be so rude..."

Padma closed her book and nodded. She was about to open her mouth and say something, but in that moment professor Vector arrived and the lesson began. Harry felt dreadful through the whole hour: they received the results of the latest test.

A. He received an A in Arithmancy. Not A as in his muggle school, but a wizarding A, and Harry knew precisely that the only reason he hadn't received a worse grade was his outstanding knowledge of the previous year's material, and there were some questions about that part of the curriculum as well.

After the lesson, the professor ordered him to stay behind. Their conversation was short and uncomfortable: Harry didn't want to listen to another speech on his falling grades, and the professor seemed to be guilty about her new position as the Head of the Slytherin House.

And Harry didn't know that it was just the first in a long line of future similar small talks.

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Harry couldn't help but wince as he tried to make a fast turn with his broom. To avoid falling from his broom, he had to grab strongly the stick, but it set his whole wounded right arm on fire. It irritated him to no end. Ten days had passed since that night, and his arm still seemed to be useless. The pain diverted his thoughts from the game and he missed the blast, which signalled the beginning of the match. It was only when a Bludger approached him that he realised the match had begun.

He did two fast circle around the pitch, but the Snitch was nowhere to be seen and he let his glance sweep through the spectators. The Gryffindors were on their feet in the gold-red stand, the first and second years were jumping, many waved hand-made flags, and everybody wore the house colours. The majority of the Hufflepuff house apparently supported the Raven's house, and to Harry's deep surprise quite a lot of the Slytherins – Slytherins for God's sake! – stood under a sheet, which read 'GO SNAPE!' with red and green letters. Harry grinned, although he knew that only half of that message was related to him, it was more a protestation against the Potions Master's suspension, but he didn't care. Janus, his classmates, and several younger Slytherins waved at him from under the inscription. Harry waved back, but he felt his heart clenching in his chest.

He didn't see Ares. And Ares loved Quidditch, and he certainly didn't support the opponent team... did he?

Forgetting about the Snitch, Harry's eyes began to run frantically through the spectators again. Slytherin house: Janus, standing firmly, smiling faces, next to them the young Death Eaters section, as Harry called them to himself, however, they seemed a little bit lost without their leader, and Millicent clearly stood away from them... interesting. Erica looked absolutely smug as Zabini rested his arm around her waist, apparently, even the muggleborn Slytherin felt better since Malfoy's departure... Severus wasn't there, naturally, and he wasn't in the teachers' box either. Not that it took Harry by surprise – what else could he expect from the man after all that happened between them? And, Harry remained himself, he had stopped to feel anything towards him. Didn't he? And somehow, there was that bitter saliva in this mouth...

And the Ravenclaw house: he could see Padma as the girl followed his every movement closely, and close to her Terry openly welcomed him raising his thumb. The Hufflepuffs were a little more closed towards him since his true identity had become public, but there was a little group supporting his house.

And the Gryffindors, again. Oh, Neville and Parvati hand in hand, Lavender giggling with some fourth year girls, nothing surprising, but Ares was still nowhere – and Hermione... she was missing as well.

Sitting on his broomstick, Harry suddenly felt himself horribly ashamed. It was his fault if his friends – could he think of them as his friends after all those words? – had decided to abandon the game!

Harry shuddered and forced himself to concentrate on the game instead. It wouldn't be any better if they lose the match as well – as it seemed they would.

The new commentator, a fourth year Hufflepuff, Steven, in that moment announced the third Ravenclaw goal against them.

It was not good.

Harry suspected that this would happen: there were too many new members on the team. The younger Creevey brother, Dennis was a magnificent Chaser, and his colleagues, Seamus and a fifth year boy, Andrew Kirke were quite skilled – but they were almost unable to cooperate and thus they often lost the Quaffle to their adversaries. The two Beaters, both girls, Ginny and Natalie, Dennis's classmate were good but not as skilled as the Weasley twins.

But then, from the corner of his eyes, Harry caught a glimpse of glittering gold from the direction of the pitch's entrance. With a sudden dive, which almost made him black out due to the sharp pain in his arm, Harry launched himself after the Snitch. His racing was fast, but not fast enough to blur his sight, and what he saw made him forget the Snitch. Two figures were approaching the Quidditch field hand in hand, like Neville and Parvati: Ares and Hermione.

Harry's heart stopped for a minute. The Snitch disappeared as he was staring at the sight in total disbelief, and when he tried to shake himself out of the shock, the first person he saw was Cho, looking at him with concern in her eyes.

It was all too much. Harry slowed down and began to head toward to the ground.

As he reached solid ground, he collapsed, his knees trembling under him. The next moment Ron was kneeling next to him.

"Are you all right, Quietus?" he asked cautiously, while the commentator announced the break. Harry just nodded his head, but he didn't feel well. He didn't know why, but Ares and Hermione's relationship was something like a low blow – and the last weeks' stress and sleepless nights didn't help either.

"I can't continue, Ron," he breathed.

"You must!" Seamus arrived in hurry. "We are going to lose this game horrendously. Our only hope is that you catch the Snitch before Ravenclaw's advantage becomes too large. Harry, up!"

"Leave him alone!" Ron hissed at his mate. "Can't you see he is too exhausted to continue..."

"He can't back out, not now!" Seamus cried impatiently.

Now, the two boys were standing face-to-face, their hands clenched into fists at their sides.

"Ron, it's all right. I feel better now," Harry croaked out not wanting his two friends to fight. "I was just a little bit... side-tracked. It's okay now, Seamus. Go back now."

"Are you sure?" Ron looked at him seriously. He just shrugged.

"Let's go back."

In the next part of the game Harry tried to concentrate only on the Snitch. And when he caught sight of it, again, the score was 100-20 to Ravenclaw. But now, Cho was flying close to his left side, and for a moment, Harry regretted that his Firebolt was under Ron, because his Nimbus wasn't able to outstrip the girl's apparently new broom. Harry leaned forward and reached his right arm towards the golden ball.

He didn't see the Bludger, but he felt it perfectly. His right arm.

The sudden pain was almost unbearable and he shrieked out aloud. His whole arm was on fire, and he was unable to move his fingers.

He missed the Snitch.

Nausea again. Pain and sickness came always hand in hand. Like Ares and Hermione...

By now, Cho surely had caught the Snitch, hadn't she?

No, she hadn't. She was staring at him in worry.

"Are you all right?" her voice was thick and trembling.

Harry couldn't answer. He wasn't all right, and the girl had missed the ball just because of him. He didn't look at her, he went back to his task instead.

The last part of the game was quite boring. The score was 170-20 when Harry caught the Snitch and saved his house from a crushing defeat. A draw was much better than a loss.

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In the next days Harry felt more isolated and lonely than ever in his life. It was worse than his childhood, because then he hadn't known what he had missed, but now, he knew precisely. Ares and Hermione were totally wrapped up in each other, like Neville and Parvati, and even Ron began to date Hannah Abbott, although he apparently tried to spend with Harry as much time as he could. But then again, it wasn't the same. Harry felt useless and rejected.

He struggled through his lessons, with abysmal grades, but he didn't care.

And then, Cho finally decided to talk to him. Harry could see in her behaviour that she had been up to something, but he had tried to avoid her at every turn. Cedric's death still depressed him, and he blamed himself even if he knew that it wasn't he who should be blamed, but Voldemort.

"You don't have to avoid me, do you know that?" was Cho's first sentence, a little bit awkward, but both felt themselves more than a little uncomfortable.

"I don't..." Harry blurted out a short protest, but it died in half-way.

"You do," Cho sighed. "Why?"

Suddenly, the air disappeared from Harry's surroundings.

"Cedric," he whispered, but he didn't dare lift up his head.

"Cedric?" Cho looked at him in total disbelief. "But it was a year and a half ago, and it wasn't your fault!"

"Yes and no," Harry fidgeted and fixed his eyes to the ground. "Perhaps it wasn't my fault but I had to witness it."

Cho didn't answer, but her fast breathing told Harry that she had heard him.

"Let's go for a walk," she suggested and Harry agreed.

The weather was quite cold and the north wind was sharp and freezing, but both ignored it. They walked slowly side by side.

"I don't blame you," she put her hand on Harry's arm. "I've never blamed you. I was devastated when I heard about your death. It was just... too much."

"Why?" Harry lifted his head.

"I couldn't help but think that you wanted to take revenge for his death... or you were too deep in guilt to resist You-Know-Who..."

"I've never wanted revenge," Harry shuddered. "When I had to face him, I just wanted to survive. Or just die."

"Did you forgive him for Cedric's death?" Cho asked with a little edge in her voice.

"The man who killed Cedric is dead. He died three weeks ago," Harry said seriously. "And I didn't forgive Voldemort for Cedric's death. But... I don't want to take revenge."

"If I were you, I would want!" Cho said heatedly. "You should be more aggressive!"

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I'm me, Cho. And I don't want revenge. I just want this whole thing to be over."

"But Cedric..."

"Voldemort killed my father, my mother, my stepfather, the whole Potter and Black families, he destroyed his godfather's life as well as my uncle's... If I ever decide to take revenge on him, I will have a lot of excuses to do that," Harry shook his head. "But I don't seek revenge. I don't want to kill, even it is him, and most of all, I don't want to kill out of hatred and vengeance."

"But you have to kill him!" Cho cried.

"I don't know what I have to do, and I don't know how I will do that, Cho," Harry somehow felt defeated. "I'm just a sixteen year old boy, nothing special."

There was a long silence.

"You are special, Harry," Cho said after a while. "You are better than us."

Harry smiled sadly and tiredly.

"I just went through too much in my life and I could see the fruits of hatred and vengeance. I'm still sufferings those 'fruits'," he frowned. "And I was near death too many times in my life. I gave up my hopes too many times. I'm more broken than good."

Cho stopped and cast a questioning look at her companion.

"Don't you think that all these... experiences somehow forged you? Made you cleaner, better?"

Harry released a bitter laugh.

"Cleaner? Better?" he had to fight to not let his tears fall. "I think I feel filthy and weak. Used and rejected. Broken. Useless. But not clean. And most definitely not good. I'm bitter, sarcastic and almost constantly angry."

Cho suddenly laughed out loud.

"Are you talking about professor Snape or yourself?"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle.

"Hell, I don't know!" but in a short moment he sobered up again. "But I don't want to talk about him."

And it was true.

He, again, felt hatred.

He hated Severus.

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Not long after Malfoy's decision to leave, Harry's nightmares began to change. While in the past he had visions two or three times a week, now they became every-night experiences, and they slowly, but firmly began to break Harry's health and abilities.

He couldn't have a good night sleep. He was always tired. It took his appetite completely, and he lost all the weight he had managed to gain after his captivity. _His _captivity, Harry thought to himself, because _this _Severus hadn't been a part of it, and with his decision to reject Harry's offer, he apparently didn't ever want to become a part of it.

Severus's rejection ate at him like acid inside, and every time he saw the man, this biting feeling burned his heart again and again, and he couldn't help it. He tried not to hate the man. He tried to rationalise his behaviour, to find excuses for him.

But he was so tired. And Severus didn't care.

Dumbledore, on the other side, cared far too much.

"Harry, I'm afraid your information is no longer useful to us," the Headmaster said once, when he had invited Harry for a talk.

"What do you mean, sir?" Harry gulped.

"Your visions, and the information seem... fake."

Silence.

"Fake?"

Silence.

"Fake."

A ragged breath.

"Oh, no," Harry groaned. "Oh, no," he repeated and buried his face into his hands. "Are you sure?" he mumbled through his fingers.

"No, but... there are several signs which make me suspect that your visions are... directed."

"So, after he tortured my body, now he is torturing my mind," Harry stated and even he winced at the emptiness of his voice.

Dumbledore didn't answer, just looked straight at Harry.

"Malfoy," Harry blurted finally out.

"What do you mean?"

"Malfoy knew that I have visions. It could be him who told Voldemort."

"How could Mr Malfoy know such a thing?" Dumbledore asked back.

"That little stunt of Hermione and McGonagall..."

"Professor McGonagall..."

"Yeah. Everybody learned that I have these strange fits."

"It was only one occasion. It's not proof."

"Then who?" Harry looked confused.

"Somebody from the staff."

Harry shook his head.

"Last year, we had the same suspicions. But finally, it was only the older Malfoy. I think the staff is okay."

"Don't forget the attack on the Hogwarts express."

Harry gave up.

"There must be another explanation, Headmaster. The staff has been proven innocent many times. Don't suspect them, they deserve better from you. Many of them have been working with you for more than twenty years!"

"Don't forget your visions last year."

"They referred to Malfoy and Leah," Harry snapped.

"When you had your first vision, Lucius Malfoy wasn't at the school."

They argued for another hour, but Harry finally didn't manage to convince the older man.

And he didn't want to believe that one of his teachers could be a traitor – and if Severus had been right, when they had been talking in Voldemort's prison, there had been a traitor for at least sixteen years.

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"Mr Snape, remain behind," the defence teacher's voice was resolute. Harry sighed and didn't follow his housemates out of the classroom.

The woman stepped closer. Harry involuntary backed up. He didn't want to be questioned, pitied or ordered around again. In the last weeks almost every member of the teacher staff cornered him with worrying eyes asking about his problems and offering their help, and he simply was fed up.

"I didn't ask you to stay behind because I wanted to talk you, Mr Snape," the defence instructor said sternly. Harry looked up at her and made a tentative nod asking her to go on. "The Headmaster informed the staff about your sleeping problems, and I just thought to call your attention to the topic we discussed in the end of September, if you remember..."

Harry's breath calmed and nodded again.

"Yes, if you think of that stuff about non-perfect shields and wards..." his voice faded as another thought occurred to him. "But what's that got to do with me?" he became a little irritated. "Apparently, Voldemort found those holes in my defence system..."

"No, Mr Snape," she lifted her voice. "A duel doesn't finish when one of the fighters manages to land a blow on their adversary. It finishes when one of them wins. So, it's time for the next move."

"Next move?" Harry furrowed his brows and slowly sank down onto a desk behind him. "You mean that it's my turn?"

"Precisely," the witch answered matter-of-factly.

For a short moment, Harry let the tiredness flow over him, but it didn't last more than an instant, and he regained control over his body and mind. So, his professor was suggesting resisting. Or more so: she suggested that Harry had to start a counter-attack. But how? He didn't know any method to block his visions except for the Dreamless Sleep potion, but he remembered well enough of Severus's – _his _Severus's, not _this_ one – warnings about the serious menace of becoming addicted, and those possibilities had kept him from using the potion. But then, what could he do?

"I don't see any chances to resist, professor," he said finally.

A smirk appeared on the teacher's face.

"Oh-oh. The famous Harry Potter decided to give up at the beginning?" she asked teasingly, and Harry couldn't restrain himself from snapping angrily.

"I'm not a Potter, professor and this is most definitely NOT the beginning," his eyes were flashing and he jumped to his feet. "And believe me, if I could do anything, I would do it!"

"Really?" the teasing disappeared, and Harry found himself against another deadly serious expression.

"Really."

"Then tell me, when these visions occur? Any time of the day?"

"No," Harry said and felt annoyed. Where all this was going? "I have them during my sleep."

"And when do you go to sleep?"

"When everybody else," Harry felt frustration as he could not understand his teacher's point.

Professor Noir sighed and now, she sat on one of the desks.

"Mr _Snape_," she began, putting an accent on the name. "I was asking these questions, because I have the suspicion that Voldemort," at the name's mention Harry jerked his head up to his professor, "attacks you always in the same period of the night. Am I right?"

Understanding dawned in Harry's mind.

"Oh," he said and blinked. "I am so stupid..."

"So? Was I right?" the witch urged him to answer.

"You were, sure," Harry turned his attention back to her.

"I see you get the idea now," she smiled and Harry returned her gesture.

"I have to re-organise my sleeping times."

The professor patted his shoulder and waved at him.

"You're dismissed then."

Harry caught her hand and shook it gratefully.

"Thank you, professor."

"Go, don't miss your lunch," was the only answer and Harry stopped in the door and looked back casting a scrutinising glance at the woman.

She was younger than Severus, in her mid-thirties or even younger, she had short brown hair and chocolate coloured eyes, all in all nothing extraordinary, but there was something about her... and suddenly, Harry felt butterflies in his stomach and his face warmed.

Oh, no.

He fancied his professor.

Harry was so shocked that he couldn't move, so he was just watching her absentmindedly. She was pretty and she moved gracefully as she ordered some documents on her desk, the she walked to a cupboard, pulled out an outer cloak and placed it around her shoulders.

"Are you still here, Mr Snape?" she asked as she turned to the door to follow her students to the great hall.

"Uh, I... I just..." Harry stuttered in complete embarrassment and quickly wheeled around.

"Wait, then," the woman called after him. "Let's go together."

"Er... yes..." Harry forced out and stopped until the professor was at his side.

He was so dazed that he couldn't recall anything of their conversation between the Defence classroom and the great hall. He answered a lot of questions automatically, but his mind wasn't on it: he tried to steal glances from the corner of his eyes at her, her hands (beautiful, graceful and tidy hands with long fingers and soft skin), her profile (a little bit longer nose than the usual, but straight, unlike his, full lips, rounded cheekbones and chin, perhaps a little bit too bushy eyebrows), her robes (swirling around her like an orange storm), and her deep, velvety voice as she talked about various things. By the time they arrived to the great hall Harry knew he was lost.

***************************************************************************

Severus was again confused. And he hated being confused. Apparently, Obliviation turned him into an emotional wreck. Since that fateful evening – or had it been night? He couldn't remember perfectly because of the significant amount of alcohol he had consumed that night – he could feel so many, many different emotions and feelings tried to rip him apart into a million little pieces, and NONE of them were related to his ex-Head of House duties or his reduced salary. After he had gotten through the first shock of being punished, he had understood the Headmaster's anger, and after he had seen Pot- the boy eating with his left hand only in the great hall he couldn't help but feel shame.

Not to mention his absolutely idiotic behaviour when the boy had offered him a Pensieve and he had broken it.

And the boy's words afterwards... Those words had been hurting him since then, although he didn't know why. He didn't want the boy to hate him. And he didn't want to hate the boy any more.

But his pride was too strong. And many times, the old hatred had simply stopped him whenever he wanted finally to talk to the boy, and to apologise.

He had broken that bloody Pensieve... the only possible way to receive some of his lost memories back. He had been an idiot when he had suspected the boy of lying. One simply couldn't lie with Pensieves. You can't put dreams, daydreams, wishes or planned ideas into a Pensieve without being exposed: these pictures are never as sharp and detailed as a real memory, on the contrary, they are fragmented and sketchy and anybody can distinguish them from the original memories.

He was a bloody idiot.

And seeing the boy sinking more and more into exhaustion and helplessness didn't help. His conscience was nudging him to make the first move, but he simply couldn't. He had been watching stupidly as the chance to reconcile with the boy had been slipping away from him together with the boy's life.

He had felt helpless. But then, something happened. As he had learned later, their newest defence celebrity had given him some useful advice about his visions – and it had worked. Well, he still didn't seem healthy or strong, but his face was a little less haunted, he could have some food as well. Severus didn't know what the advice was, but it had to be wise. And he wanted to tell the boy that he was happy for him... but he simply couldn't.

Coward!

Severus closed his quarters' door behind him and willed himself to think of other things, mostly of the essays he had to correct and the tests he had to mark. 

Sixth year Advanced Potions essays on the use of Numbing Serums for burn injuries... Granger, ah too long again... some very good remarks about the different ingredients and suggestions of non-brewed infusions... it's an E, almost an O, but only almost… Nott E... This Nott guy was now dating the red-haired Gryffindor. And none of them talked to the boy any more, at least it seemed so... But no, he would not think about him again. Go on. Patil A, Boot E, Longbottom E... Still not just a little shock. Longbottom – in his Advanced class! Bullstrode P, oh, since she had had that affair with that Ravenclaw guy she couldn't concentrate any more – and now, he couldn't help her... perhaps he should tell Vector to give some good advices to the slowly more and more girl-like student. A relationship like that could save her from joining Voldemort... And Vector many times was too blind to realise such obvious facts!

Damn Albus for removing him from his post when he was most needed there!

Knight A. This was the clear consequence of her acquaintance with the sixth year junior Death Eater club. Dating that brainless Zabini... just because she had wanted revenge on the boy! He had done well to kick her out! Snape thought to himself and smiled. He was about to pull to him another pile of tests to him when a strange, metallic sound stopped him in mid-movement.

The next moment he was lying on his belly behind his desk, his wand in hand, deep in concentration. He couldn't place that sound. He was quite sure he had never heard it before, and it had sounded in his living room. As the minutes went by and nothing moved, Severus cautiously peered around. Silence. Slowly, he stood up and left his desk's corner. Door – closed. Bookshelves – nothing special. Sofa, armchairs – empty. Fireplace – dull red embers, not enough to use them as a Floo station. Mantelpiece – empty.

And then, he _saw_.

The panic was overwhelming, and he became suddenly dizzy. The wizard clock on his wall. The only thing that had remained behind after he had chased the boy away.

Quietus – it said – mortal danger. Severus wanted to move, but he didn't know where.

He ran to the door and ripped it open.

"Saevus!" he cried, but the sound, which left his lips was more a whine than a yell. However, he didn't have to wait too long. As the ghost's late offspring, they shared a special bond, which allowed to him to summon the Bloody Baron, whenever he was in need. And now, he was. And it was the Baron's other offspring, who was another reason.

"Yes, Severus?" the ghost didn't seem too pleased, but to tell the truth, he had been quite displeased with Severus since he had severed communication with the boy. Severus knew that Saevus liked the boy, so he had to be tactful.

"Quietus is in danger. Can you help me to find him?" he asked, purposefully using the boy's name.

"Why should I believe you?" the ghost asked suspiciously. "I don't want you to cause him any more harm."

Severus didn't answer, instead he ushered the mistrustful Baron inside and showed him the clock. The ghost disappeared without any further explanation, and Severus felt impotent. He had to wait for the ghost's return if he didn't want to miss him, but the waiting was eating at his nerves. With a sudden idea, he hurried to his potions cabinet to fetch some useful potions.

But when he stood in front of the little cabinet, it occurred to him, that he hadn't opened it for... for too long. Years. Perhaps, he didn't have any good potions now. Inwardly cursing, he opened the little door – and he had to blink hard many times.

The cabinet was full of potions: Healing Draughts, Anti-Bleeding Potions (a lot of them), Painkillers and Numbing Serums, and potions for the different after-effects of torturing curses. Before... so before _that_, Severus hadn't used too many kinds of potions, he had only some Pepper-up, some Painkillers and a few vials of Post-Cruciatus draughts in his cabinet. And the quantity was alarmingly shocking as well.

Suddenly, Severus realised that it wasn't only the clock that had remained behind after the boy's... departure. Driven by his instincts, Severus picked an Anti-Bleeding Potion, two strong Painkillers and a Post-Cruciatus, but as he held the tiny bottle in his hand, he couldn't help but shudder in shame.

He knew that the boy had been hit by Cruciatus, he had known it on that fateful night, when he dragged the half-conscious boy to the Infirmary, because he had been the one, who discovered his secret, here, in Hogwarts, the night before the school year had begun...

"Severus, I found him," a voice broke his line of thoughts. "He is in the library, in the Arabic section."

Not surprising, he thought to himself sprinting through halls and up hidden staircases.

"He is in very bad shape," the ghost continued floating next to him. "His clothes are bloody and when I left him he wasn't conscious."

"What was he doing there?"

"Apparently, he was studying. Now, half of his books are on the floor, and everything around him is bloody, the carpets, the books..."

"Is he bleeding that strongly?" Severus asked in surprise. "Why?"

"I don't now," came the reply. "I haven't seen through his robes. And everything was too dark and covered by blood..."

To Severus, their trip seemed to last an eternity. He almost stepped on one of those trick stairs, but Saevus waved quickly with his hand and the stair became as solid as the other ones. It was surprising, but they had no time to discuss the ghost's mystical power over the school – they had arrived.

The library was dark, but Severus soon lit the torches. He needed light to see the boy's condition. One minute later he wished he hadn't done so. The boy was a mess, a bloody mess, half-slipped from his chair, his hair dampened with sweat and blood, and a fresh, red stream was dripping down his neck.

Severus couldn't hesitate. After a short scan, with a short flip of his wand, he removed the boy's clothes.

God in Heaven. Pale skin, protruding ribs, and slashes, scars, and more slashes and more scars all around his whole body except from the face in a very, very familiar pattern. Avery. It was Avery's work. _But how could that bastard have entered the school?_ he thought as he cautiously laid the body on the floor. As he reached towards his pocket to pull out the Anti-Bleeding potion, he knew. Avery hadn't been here. Harry had been fully clothed. And the potions in his cabinet... And the older Auror, who wanted to talk about the boy's suicidal tendencies... Everything clicked into place.

As he lifted Quietus's head to pour the potion into his mouth (too risky with an unconscious person), he felt a sudden urge to protect the boy somehow...

"_Ennervate_," he whispered and waited until the boy opened his mouth.

"It hurts," he cried and Severus had the feeling that the whole thing had happened before.

"I know," Severus said quietly. "Drink this now," he touched the boy's mouth with the vial. He accepted and drank the draught.

"I'm cold."

Severus wrapped him into his cloak.

"I bring you to the Infirmary," he whispered, but there was no answer: the boy lost consciousness again. He sighed and lifted the boy in his arms.

"Saevus, please, alert the Headmaster and Madam Pomfrey."

The ghost disappeared again, and Severus stood up with his burden. But his burden wasn't a heavy one. On the contrary. He could carry him without any further effort.

The walk to the Hospital Wing was short and quick, but the nurse was already waiting for them. As soon as Severus lowered the boy on the bed, she began to examine him thoroughly.

"Did you give him something?" 

"Anti-Bleeding," Severus sighed. "Nothing else."

The nurse grunted something approvingly.

"Poppy," the man finally decided himself. "How many times has this happened before...?"

The nurse didn't look up as she answered the question.

"I remember three times. But you two were always too secretive about his condition, so it could have been many more."

"I see," Severus felt quite out of place here.

He didn't know what he was supposed to feel. He wasn't sure he knew this boy lying in front of him. And then again... Was it something to do with the blood relation?

Severus massaged his throbbing temples. His situation was so complicated.

Potter was not Potter.

And Severus had always hated the Potters.

But he couldn't hate this boy, because he wasn't a Potter.

Or more so, he was a Snape. The last Snape at that.

And a Noblestone, of course.

He had been behaving irresponsibly for too long. Severus forced his eyes to look at the boy, not the scar on the forehead, but the boy, the face, the complexion, everything, everything was clear evidence of his stupidity! This boy was not Harry Potter, and most of all: that Harry Potter he had imagined to himself had never existed.

And about the lying... He knew, he had always known that it had been more Albus's idea than the boy's...

STOP! The boy had a name.

Quietus. He had to use it even if it caused a very, very real pain in his mind.

And Quietus had told him about his parentage, against Albus's will. He had tried to be open.

He owed the boy. He couldn't love him, but he owed him.

And he WOULD apologise as soon as the bo- Quietus regained consciousness.

Perhaps, it was not too late.

***************************************************************************

Next: as soon as Barbara send it back!!! She's working on it.

Oh, I created a yahoo group in case ff.net wants to trick us again. In a few days I will upload all my stories there, so even if ff.net is out of order, you can find them. Feel free to join this group: 

www.groups.yahoo.com/group/enahmasworld

(You can find this link in my personal library as well – just click to my name!)


	13. Bespelled

Betaed by Barbara.

Thank you for everybody who reviewed, I'm really living of your reflections!

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Chapter 13 – Bespelled

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The darkness slowly began to lighten around him. Somehow, the pain had lessened, and later passed away, and something soft and fluffy surrounded him caressing his sensitive skin. He didn't open his eyes, though; he didn't want them to burn in the brightness of the room he was in...

Where was he by the way?

His last memory was... 

What was his last memory?

He began to struggle. Yesterday afternoon, a short duelling practice with professor Noir – he called her Armenia to himself – then his afternoon nap-time, a late dinner at midnight and... yes. He went to the library after that to do some research on the essay McGonagall had assigned to him, and after, he had read something about some boring vegetables. That had been the problem. The topic had been so extremely boring that he had fallen asleep, fallen precisely into a nightmarish vision of Avery – and he had known that that was Voldemort's plan: to kill him through his visions. The bastard! After a while he had lost consciousness and he was absolutely sure that he would die. But no, he was still alive, although a bit sore, but definitely alive. Somebody had found him, then.

Oh, somebody... As if in a dream he remembered Severus giving him some potions... but no. It was impossible. Severus, the Severus who would have given him potions had died. This other Severus didn't care enough to save him. It had to be a dream.

Suddenly, he became aware of a swishing sound from the right side of his bedside, a robe was rustling, and a quiet, female voice called him, "Mr Snape? Are you awake?"

Oh, Madam Pomfrey.

"Eeerrrgggh," he groaned and forced his eyes to open. The consequence was the one he had suspected: the light almost blinded him. Quickly, he closed them again.

The nurse muttered something, and Harry felt an almost tentative touch on his eyelids.

"You can open your eyes now," Madam Pomfrey said. Harry obeyed and cast a short glance around. The Infirmary, again. He sighed. "I suggest you move in here," he could hear the smile in the nurse's voice. "You spend half of your time here anyway."

Harry scowled and groaned, now warningly.

"I'd prefer not," he voiced his feelings.

The nurse nodded and with a fast movement, she pulled the blanked off of Harry, "Take off your pyjamas. I want to see your scars."

Harry didn't complain. This was all too familiar. He inhaled and pulled his pyjama top off. Following the nurse's eyes he scrutinised his chest and arms tracking his scars' routes. The skin around them was swollen and reddish, and the scars were angry and fresh red, and a thin layer of crust had begun to form on their tops. His skin was absolutely ruined. It was impossible to find any unharmed and healthy part, and Harry knew all too well that his legs weren't any better. He was disgusting. His facial features were horrendous, but his whole body was disgusting. A freak. Now, he really was a freak.

His face blushed in embarrassment, and he was very grateful to the nurse, when she didn't ask him to remove his pyjama bottom. His gratitude, however, faded significantly, when she asked him not to cast a Concealing Charm on his body any more.

"These are magical injuries, Mr Snape," she explained. "Every Concealing Charm just slows down the healing process."

"But I don't want them to be visible," Harry couldn't help but whine. "I don't want the others to see them..."

"Put on a turtleneck then," the nurse answered simply. "You always wear long sleeved shirts. If you put on a long sleeved turtleneck, nobody will see your injuries."

'_But they will see my face anyway,_' Harry added to himself sarcastically. But there was no point in casting a Glamourie on his face. Everybody knew what he looked like. 'Hogwarts' ugliest boy'. Once, several weeks ago, Hermione had told him that he would change a lot during these years and he wouldn't remain the long-armed and long-legged clumsy teenager he was, but every day that Harry saw himself in the mirror, he couldn't believe her. And looking at Severus didn't help. However... well, Hermione had told him once in the last year that Severus was handsome. And he had seen several photos of his father and well... he hadn't been handsome, but he hadn't been appalling either.

"You will have to remain here today and tonight. Try to catch some sleep, Mr Snape," the nurse said finally and left Harry alone. But he couldn't enjoy the silence for long.

"Harry, how are you?" the Headmaster's voice was worrying and full of warmness.

Harry just shrugged. "Better, I guess. Who brought me here?" he asked.

"Severus."

"Oh," so he had been right.

"He seemed quite agitated."

Harry cracked a sarcastic smirk. "Agitated? I never thought the Noblestone Spell could cause feelings like agitation."

"Noblestone Spell?" Dumbledore seemed genuinely astounded.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Did you think he brought me here out of the goodness of hiw own heart?" he couldn't help himself, his words were sharp and bitter. "Then I regret to inform you that your Potions professor, Severus Snape acted only because of a spell, which forced him to save my life. Even if he wasn't aware of it."

"Harry, I don't follow you."

Harry wiped the smirk from his face.

"I read about it in my father's diary. He wrote that there's a spell on the Noblestone family members. Those who are related by blood are unable to harm each other."

"Not to harm is not the same as to save, Harry."

"Knowing Saevus, I'm quite sure that this spell is more about saving the family than hindering them in hurting each other."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"So you think this spell is related to Saevus?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "Perhaps it wasn't him who created it, but he died protecting his family. And protection is much more than simple 'not causing harm', Headmaster."

"I can see your point, Harry. But what if Saevus protected his family just because he loved them?"

For a short moment Harry was taken aback.

"Do you mean then, that he likes me?"

"You?" Dumbledore furrowed his brows. "Harry, sometimes I have the feeling we speak different languages."

Harry released a slight chuckle.

"Saevus helped a lot of people to save me last year. He helped even Remus and a bunch of Gryffindors. Do you think that the Bloody Baron would be fond enough of me to save my skin if it wasn't for the Noblestone Spell?"

Dumbledore smiled beneath his beard.

"Ask him. But I think he likes you just as he liked your father and Severus..."

"But Severus doesn't like me," Harry protested. "So it had to be the spell, which made him to save me."

"Perhaps, I don't know. You have to ask him as well. He's planning to drop in on you today."

Harry became horrified.

"No. I don't want to see him."

"You have to, Harry," the old man cast a sympathetic glance at him. "Even if it's hard..."

"I don't agree I have to, Headmaster," Harry said in a toneless voice. "It wasn't me who severed every connection between us..."

"And now, it's not you, who's trying to correct his faults."

Harry didn't answer, just averted his face signalling that he didn't want to talk about it any more. The Headmaster understood his non-verbal message and let the topic drop.

***************************************************************************

"Harry?" Padma was standing in the Infirmary's door. "May I come in?"

Harry nodded uncertainly, clearly aware of his exposed neck and arms: his pyjamas were neither turtleneck nor long sleeved, and tried to slip under his blanket as soon as possible. The girl stepped inside tentatively.

"I brought you your homework and my notes," she said.

"Thank you," Harry croaked in embarrassment not knowing what to say. "And... how were the lessons today?"

"No too bad," she answered. "Like always."

They sat in silence for a while.

"McGonagall assigned another essay topic," she suddenly blurted out and pulled out a parchment from her bag. "Here, look."

They leaned over the parchment.

"And she repeated that anybody who was not in proper physical condition couldn't continue the curriculum," she looked at Harry sadly. "I'm afraid she was thinking of you."

Harry closed his eyes and nodded.

"Yes, she has warned me before... But I will attend those classes nevertheless," he said firmly.

"If they let you," Padma corrected him, but Harry snapped at her.

"I won't ask them. I will consult with the Headmaster instead."

They stared at each other intensely, Harry with a little anger, Padma with a serious amount of annoyance, and the tension began to rise between them, but then, the door creaked and they jerked their heads towards the entrance.

"Harry!" Hermione ran to his bed and hugged him before he could even move. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," she whispered into his hair.

Harry blushed and he could see Padma's confused expression at Hermione's affectionate display.

"It's okay," he tried to free himself from the embrace, but he failed. "Let me go, Hermione. You're hurting me."

"Oh, sorry," the girl seemed frightened and released him quickly. "I was so scared when I heard what happened..."

"Who told you?" Harry asked darkly.

"Nearly Headless Nick. He told me that the Bloody Baron found you in the library and you were..."

"Stop," Harry put a hand on Hermione's arm. "I don't want to talk about it."

Hermione just now noticed Harry's companion. The two girls stared at each other rather uncomfortably.

"Oh, hi, Padma," Hermione greeted her quietly.

"Hello," the Ravenclaw replied coldly. Harry couldn't imagine what would happen in the next moment between the two, but other people's arrival fortunately solved the problem. Ares, Neville and Ron entered the Infirmary.

In one moment, the hospital wing began to remind Harry to the crowded railway platform of King's Cross instead of a medical place, and as time went by the effects of the painkillers started to fade.

Harry didn't remember he had ever been as happy to see the nurse as he was now. The stern woman managed to send away everybody with a few harsh words, but after that she disappeared in her office and Harry somehow didn't want to cry out for a painkiller. He could handle this pain anyway. He slowed down his breathing, inhaled deeply and released the air slowly, concentrating hard on his breathing, nothing else. But the pain didn't want to ebb. On the contrary, after a while his whole body was throbbing according in time to his heartbeat. His body tensed, and his back arched in pain. After a while he couldn't pay attention to his surroundings, he was so wrapped in his pain.

Then, a soothing hand touched his forehead and felt a slight, cool pressure on his lips: a vial. He obediently opened his mouth and swallowed the liquid. Almost instantly, the pain's fog disappeared from his mind, and his eyes cleared.

It was Severus, who was still holding his head. Just after the man saw Harry opening his eyes, he lowered his head onto the pillow.

"Thank you," Harry muttered. The man didn't answer, just turned his eyes to the floor.

"I came to apologise," he said suddenly, startling Harry, who replied without thinking-

"Why?"

Short silence.

"I hurt you. Your arm..."

"Thank you, it's all right now," Harry said quickly.

"I should have been more considerate."

"But you weren't," Harry's response was fast and cold.

"I wasn't." The man seemed quite uncomfortable, but Harry didn't rush to help him.

"Why did you come and apologise?" he asked instead.

"I..." Severus began inhaling deeply as if he was preparing a long speech, but he didn't go on. "I don't know," he muttered finally.

"Why did you save me yesterday?" Harry continued the questioning.

This question apparently caught Severus more off guard than the previous question.

"The clock on the wall showed me that you were in mortal danger..."

"And?" Harry kept his voice cool and emotionless. Here was the proof of Severus's reason for acting. The blasted spell, nothing else.

"I asked Saevus, because I know he likes you," _at least Dumbledore was right about one thing_, Harry thought, "and I saw you dying..."

"I wasn't dying," the voice was barely above a whisper. "I have survived this kind of torture more than once."

"Yes, Poppy told me," Severus nodded and their eyes locked.

"I see," Harry didn't know what to think, so he chose to remain silent. If Severus wanted something, he could open his mouth and ask.

It was the man, who finally averted his gaze.

"I wanted to apologise about your Pensieve as well."

Harry jerked at the mention of his stone bowl. Then, he shrugged.

"Don't need to. It was a gift from my Corporation anyway," he didn't care if his voice sounded like a spoiled celebrity's. The mention of that evening still boiled his blood enough to feel hatred towards this man.

"Well, and I wanted to ask if I..." he stopped.

"If you...?" Harry asked bitingly.

"If I still have the chance to look into your memories."

Harry paled in rage.

"So, THIS is the reason you are here. THIS is the reason you felt the need to apologise!" he yelled infuriated.

"No, I..."

"STOP!" Harry's voice became even stronger, but he suddenly calmed himself. "No, professor," he shook his head determinedly. "You will never have the chance to look into my memories," he lifted his hand to silence the older man. "But I tell you something, because I don't want you to remain clueless in this important matter. Do you know why you saved me? Just because of a stupid spell somebody in the Noblestone family cast on his relatives to protect each other! Do you know that it wasn't you who protected me yesterday, but a spell! So I have nothing to thank you for, and I want nothing to do with you anymore. You played all your cards, weeks ago and I'm not the forever forgiving kind, do you understand me?"

A slight hint of uncertainty crossed the Potions Master's face, but it was soon replaced by a wrath, which matched Harry's.

"Who do you think you are?" he bellowed. "You have no right to talk to me in that tone, and you don't know anything about my reasons!"

"And I don't want to know anything about them!" Harry bellowed back. "Leave me alone!"

"As you wish," Severus hissed and stalked out of the room with his robes swirling behind him.

Harry looked after him with pure hatred.

"The git..." he whispered and collapsed back to his pillow.

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After three days spent in the hospital wing Harry felt absolutely recovered and relaxed, thanking mostly to the Dreamless Sleep potion, the nurse had given to him under strict supervision. This thought wouldn't leave his mind, so right after closing the Infirmary's door behind himself, Harry's first way led to the library. _Medical Potions_. A very thick, heavy book, but it would contain everything Harry needed right now. He didn't have to search for long.

_Dreamless Sleep Potion_, the text read.

_Ingredients: wormwood, leech skin _blah-blah…

_Brewing method_, go on, Harry, he thought.

_Use and warnings_, that was it!

_"... and here is very important to note that the Potion's  use had to be supervised by a skilled healer or medical assistant in order to avoid addiction ..."_ A lot of rubbish again, then, _"... the addiction in the first stage doesn't seem dangerous. The only negative impact is that the user can't sleep any more without its usage. This stage generally last three or four months. During the subsequent months the addiction becomes more obvious even for a stranger: extreme mood swings in the beginning, almost uncontrollable emotional outbursts later and the slow failing of logical thinking in the end. This last stage is incurable, while the first and second are theoretically curable, although the percentage of the healed persons is under 5%."_

Harry shuddered. Under 5%. Risky, very risky. But he needed some final solution, and he wouldn't live through his 18th birthday either, so he would not lived to see his logical thinking failing.

Harry couldn't help but shudder again. Somehow, dying seemed more preferable than the slow failing of his rational mind, but what else could he do? He needed to sleep if he wanted to participate in the future Transfiguration classes, if he wanted to remain a part of the Quidditch team, if he wanted to _live _– as long as he could, and not only to _survive_. With another wince, he pulled the book closer and copied the recipe on a parchment.

That was it. And he really wouldn't use the potion every day. No way. Just sometimes, when the sleeplessness would become unbearable.

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"I'm happy to see your grades are better again," Hermione smiled at Harry some weeks later, after an Arithmancy lesson, eyeing happily his friend's newest test. Outstanding, like in the good, old days. "How did you do it? I mean, this... resurrection."

Harry shrugged and tried not to look guilty.

"Professor Noir gave me some good advice," he answered and changed the topic quickly. "May I see your test?"

"Of course," the girl pulled her parchment from her Arithmancy book. "Here you are."

Harry almost choked in surprise when he saw the mark on the top. E.

"Just an E?" he shook his head and looked at Hermione directly. "Your grades are worsening, dear."

"Come on, Harry," Hermione smiled, but Harry could see the forced edge of her smile. She wasn't happy either. Remembering the feeling when everybody had harassed him about his grades, he swallowed back the rising teasing. Not to mention that he had been cheating for two weeks with the Dreamless Sleep Potion.

"If you want, we can study again in the library."

Hermione looked perplexed, "I don't know if that's a good idea, Quiet."

"Why?" Harry was really puzzled.

"I don't want to hurt Ares," she said quietly. "When I... er... hugged you in the hospital wing, he was very upset. He didn't say a word, but I'm quite sure he thinks I'm dating him just because you don't want to date me..."

"What?" Harry couldn't restrain a sudden laughter. "But, Hermione, I'm not in love with you! You can tell him and..."

"Don't you understand, Quiet?" Hermione asked, her voice almost desperate. "He doesn't think _you _are in love with me! He thinks that _I _am in love with you!"

"But you are not," Harry shook his head, and felt extremely stupid.

"Come on, Quiet!" Hermione forced another smile. "How many times did you declare that you wouldn't date me even if I were the only girl in the world?"

"Let me see," Harry smiled, but he was still puzzled. "At least ten times."

"See. And I'm not _that _dense that after ten refusals I'd like to go out with you!"

Harry's smile widened.

"So, it means that you did want to date me!" he said triumphantly.

"Stupid git," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Silly girl," Harry looked at her affectionately. "So? Common study?"

"No."

"I will talk to Ares."

"I will kill you if you do."

Harry gave up.

"Right, then," and couldn't help, but feel abandoned. In reality, he had planned for days to ask Hermione to study together, her new test had been just an excuse, and even she refused to... to spend time with him. There were only two people, who showed some willingness to be with him, one of them was Ron – he had many times turned down his girlfriend just to be with Harry, and many times the two just appeared at Harry's desk in the library to Hannah's apparent and absolute discomfort. Harry knew precisely that her discomfort and slight dislike was the direct consequence of Leah's betrayal and Cedric's death, two horrible things happened to the Hufflepuff house, and many members simply blamed him. And Hannah was a kind of friend of Leah as well, which didn't make things easier. Harry tried to argue with Ron and to persuade him to spend his time with his girlfriend alone, he was fine alone, but Ron didn't listen.

And Harry didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed, because he still didn't know what to think, how to feel about his one-time friend.

His other companion was Padma, who was comfortably different from Erica, and was an excellent study partner, but her obvious purpose with Harry scared him and pushed him away from her. Moreover, in her case Harry couldn't see those selfish motives behind her acts, which were driving Erica. Her father was the Minister, wasn't he? She didn't need any more fame and money, did she?

Harry hated being a teenager, and many times he was longing for being adult, settled, married, having children and not compelled to choose, to decide... But then again, he was sure he would never be an adult.

And there was professor Noir as well... And her new idea of helping Harry, and he, to McGonagall and Dumbledore's surprise and relief, had accepted her help, and now, they were working together two times a week practicing duelling defence techniques. During these tutorial classes, the woman taught Harry how to get through different kinds of shields in practice (due to the dangerousness of these techniques their work in the classroom was mostly theoretical with some smaller practical parts) and how to react if somebody got through his personal wards.

In reality, Harry doubted that he would ever use these techniques. He knew that he couldn't destroy Voldemort in a duel using a Killing Curse if he didn't want to become something dark like Tom Riddle was, but he could never know when he would need these techniques to approach Voldemort – and, most of all, he wanted to work together with the older woman. He liked everything about her: her teaching method, her grace in duelling, her fast reactions and sharp wit, and he loved their conversations after their lessons, when they discussed the previous hour drinking tea. Their conversations were never personal at any level, and Harry was grateful for it. There were too many people trying to solve his life's problems anyway.

"Professor, I'd like to ask a favour," he finally said after a common training session, when they sat to drink the usual tea.

"Yes, Mr Snape? If you think about the using of the Unforgivable in..."

"No," Harry hurriedly interrupted her. "It's another thing. I..." he stopped. He wasn't sure the professor would give him permission. "I need a signed note from a professor to do some research in the Restricted Section."

The woman's face suddenly changed from a relaxed into an exalted – frightened? – expression.

"Why do you need that note, Mr Snape? I don't think you should know more Dark Arts, than you already do."

"It's not about Dark Arts, professor," Harry shook his head. "Not everything is Dark Art in that section, and I promise I won't touch any book on that topic."

"Then, what do you want to research on?"

Harry gulped.

"Er... some researches on the human soul, ma'am," he said and braced himself for the next 'why' and he didn't know how to answer that. But it never came.

"It's still about Seve- I mean professor Snape, isn't it?" she asked quietly, and with such warmness that Harry's heart clenched in pain. The professor cared about him, and now, he would lie to her, because he didn't want that research because of Severus.

"Yes," he nodded and hated himself.

He wanted to get rid of Voldemort. As soon as possible, before the first signs of the potion addiction became visible. Yes, the addiction – by this time Harry was completely sure that the addiction was about to enter into its first phase: he still didn't use the potion every night, just occasionally, two-three(-four) times a week, but now, after three weeks he found sleeping without the potion quite difficult. Not to mention that he had never preferred the afternoon naps, and every time he didn't take the potion he had to avoid sleeping in the most dangerous hours of the night. And it was only a matter of time, when Voldemort would learn his changed sleeping methods and attack him in another time of the day.

And why this research about the human soul?

Because Voldemort was almost immortal. And Harry didn't want him to live forever, even if Harry somehow managed to sacrifice himself and to protect the World from him. Forever seemed too long a time even with an impotent Voldemort. And Harry decided for himself: he wouldn't die alone. He would take the Greatest Bastard with himself.

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Severus didn't know what was the problem with him, but he couldn't help but feel that he had missed or forgotten something, something... important. Or was he just about to miss it? It was the second day of December and he was so restless... He had taught his classes, and now, he had a lot of free time to... to what?

He hated this feeling, and now, it was quite familiar. It had to do something with his Obliviation, again. He sighed, and pulled his outer cloak out of the wardrobe. He would go for a walk: the weather was bright and sunny, although very cold, the perfect day for making a trip around the castle.

Apparently, many of his students thought the same way, because the grounds were full of children: playing, laughing, yelling... and to Severus, it sounded inappropriate. Laughing – on this day? He sneered angrily and with a sudden wheel he made his way towards Hogsmeade. Even if it wasn't too secure. He wanted to... he didn't know what he wanted. His legs were carrying him and in a strange daze, he let them, contemplating the boy, Quietus, and his coldness and rejection. It was true that Severus didn't like him, but his rejection was painful nevertheless, and his suspicion that Severus had saved him only just because of a stupid family spell was thoroughly ridiculous. Or was it? This question hadn't left Severus for weeks. Perhaps it was a strange thought for a git like him, but he didn't like the idea of saving the boy's neck just because a spell had compelled him to do it.

And Avery's handiwork all over the thin body... and the familiar feeling as he lifted the boy into his arms... his words had sounded so familiar... He couldn't be really angry with him after that. Yes, they had had that row in the hospital wing the following day, but somewhere deep inside he knew that the boy had been right.

His steps slowed down and let himself remember. The first glimpse of the boy in St Mungo's – Quietus had bathed him, and had visited him as soon as the healers had let him visit, the boy never protested against his treatment, he even had offered to let Severus cast an Identifying Spell on him, and just now, Severus understood that the boy had wanted him to know... and later his trust, Quietus had always trusted him, although he had known that Severus had been a Death Eater...

And since that infamous Potions class... the man felt his blood turning cold in his veins. Why hadn't he thought about the previous weeks of working, living together? Why had his first emotion been hatred towards him? Just because he had been Potter? Or well, not the first emotion, because he had been quite shocked, but he had had weeks! to think through, to digest – and to remember that boy, in the hospital, in his lab, in his quarters...

He almost didn't notice when his legs stopped.

He lifted his eyes, and he really didn't know how could he avoid the heart attack.

He was standing in front of an old and worn headstone.

Quietus Snape 

He fell on his knees and panic flew over him.

The boy?

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.

He needed more than ten minutes to regain his common sense and to read the next line.

_1960-1979_

He was kneeling at his brother's tomb.

***************************************************************************

The next day, he was still under the effect of the shock. He simply didn't remember what he did during his lessons, he was so dazed that Minerva needed to remind him about the teachers' meeting that afternoon. He still felt that strange, absolutely unfamiliar feeling: as if somebody was holding him, he felt the internal warmness, something distant and suffocating and painful, yes, painful, because he was aware that the feeling bound him to a person who had died long ago.

Nobody had really told him about his brother and their relationship, although Dumbledore had been hinting that they had been very close, but until yesterday afternoon it had seemed a mere statement, or a childish family tale: he, close to somebody? But right after he had returned from the cemetery, he had searched the old box, which contained his photos, and for the first time since he had regained consciousness in St Mungo's he had opened it.

And there had been everybody he couldn't really remember: his mother, his father and _him_. He hadn't remembered him before, but he had recognised him immediately. His hands had been trembling as he had held the photos, one after other... then other photos had come, photos he hadn't remembered about: Quietus and James Potter, Quietus and the Potter family, Quietus and Lily Evans finally Quietus and he, sitting next to the lake laughing.

And their parents had given him over to Voldemort, and all these hopes, happiness, carefree laughter had faded into nothingness, and only one thing had remained behind: an old headstone full of crevices and a dulled inscription and two numbers.

Pain and bitterness had evaded his thoughts, his heart, and although he still didn't remember anything about his brother, he _knew _that he was hiding somewhere amongst his blackened memories, and he was familiar, shockingly and completely familiar.

Quietus Snape. Now, just some bones in the cold soil. And he would never meet him again.

"... and I cannot agree with our young colleagues. That part of the library is restricted for a good reason. I see no reason why we should allow a student to have free access of that sector. It's very, very dangerous," madam Pince inhaled aloud.

"Harry doesn't want to study Dark Arts," Armenia explained with a slight annoyance. "I told you, and if you want we can put a charm on the Dark Arts books so that he can't use them."

"Not everything dangerous is counted as dark, professor," professor Sprout's words surprised almost everybody in the room. Severus couldn't remember when was the last time he had heard the woman telling her opinion in front of the staff, but it had to be years. "And there is a reason for every book we decided to put into the Restricted Section."

"I will supervise him."

"A free access makes supervision too problematic, dear," madam Pince snapped angrily.

"I think we can trust in Mr Snape," another surprise: professor Binns decided to join the argument. "He is a very respectable student, smart and studious."

Short silence. Everybody needed some time to recuperate from the shock the old ghost caused them with two things: first, that he had opened his mouth, second, that he had known the person they were talking about. Dumbledore smiled and McGonagall chuckled quietly into her hands.

"It's not a matter of trust," professor Sinistra said suddenly. "We cannot give him free access. It wouldn't be fair to the other students..."

"He is our best student, Silvia," McGonagall finally finished chuckling just to contradict her colleague. "He is Head Boy, and I think he needs every bit of help we can give him in the future."

Hagrid and Vector nodded at her words, but Flitwick jumped to his feet on his armchair.

"I regret to oppose you, Minerva, but don't agree. Well, I don't think Mr Snape is untrustworthy, or giving him the access would be an offence towards his fellow students, but I can see that he is already overloaded with his advanced classes, and his grades..."

"His grades improved in the last month, Filius," McGonagall interrupted him, and professor Noir nodded vigorously.

"Well, this sudden improvement worries me," Flitwick folded his arms over his chest.

"What do you mean?" the young woman asked.

"It's not natural. He is up to something, because he wants to live up your expectations. He..."

"Ridiculous!" the defence professor jumped to her feet and leaned ahead. "I gave him advice to change his sleeping habits, that's all!"

Dumbledore's face darkened, and even McGonagall winced slightly. But then, Severus opened his mouth, "I agree with Filius, Silvia and the others. We cannot allow him freely into the restricted section. Knowing his history..."

"His history, Severus?" McGonagall growled. "What history?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Minerva. The boy is a troublemaker. He always gets mixed up in suspicious situations with suspicious persons..." he stopped. The sudden silence in the staff room silenced him as well. "What...?" he asked tentatively.

Dumbledore sighed.

"That boy doesn't exist any more, Severus," he looked at his colleagues, "and I put the question to the vote. Can we give Quietus Snape free access to the Restricted Section or not? Who agrees?"

Dumbledore, Noir, Vector, Hagrid, McGonagall and Binns lifted their arms.

"Six votes. Disagrees?"

Severus, Sinistra, Flitwick, Sprout, Pince.

"Five votes. Abstentions?"

Trelawney and the Muggle Studies professor.

"The question is solved then," Dumbledore stated and sat back. "Quietus Snape can use the Restricted Section and..."

"As the boy's closest relative I want to veto the decision," Severus stood up.

"You have no rights over the boy," the defence teacher followed him and stood up. Her voice was a nervous hiss. "You rejected him. He is not your legal relative any more."

"Armenia is right, Severus. Sit down." The Headmaster's words were hard and definite.

"But I..."

"You rejected him officially. You have no right to veto our decision."

"I will alert Black, then," Severus sneered.

"You can. But for now, sit down," the ordering tone was unmistakable. Severus sank down his chair and buried his face in his hands. Just after his colleagues began to file out of the room, he lowered them.

He didn't know how long he was sitting there. Finally, a steaming teacup snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Severus," Dumbledore told him quietly.

He lifted his head.

"Why do you all want him to die?" he asked the old man suddenly.

Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow questioningly.

"What do you mean, Severus?"

"With this decision you are strengthening him in his belief that he has to save the wizarding world, that he is responsible for clearing Voldemort off the Earth."

"I don't agree this decision will push him in that direction."

"Don't you? Why do you think he wants that access? I don't know what he is up to precisely, but I know that he is planning something."

"But why is this thing disturbing you, Severus?"

"I don't know. But I don't want him to die. Family spell or not, I don't know, but I don't want him to die."

Long, understanding silence fell on the room. They sipped from their teacups from time to time, but neither of them wanted to break the silence. Just when a house elf came and offered some biscuits, the conversation went on.

"Where were you yesterday, Severus?"

A weak smile appeared on the younger man's face.

"I was in the cemetery of Hogsmeade. I didn't want to go there, I was just wandering, and in the end I found myself at my brother's tomb. It was so strange... as if my body knew how I could get there, and when I was standing there I felt as if he had been there with me..."

"Yesterday was the anniversary of your brother's death, Severus. You visited his tomb every year on this day."

"Apparently, some of my memories were not deleted perfectly..." the Potions Master muttered bitterly. "You told me we were very close. Is that true, then?"

"Yes," the Headmaster nodded. "You loved him more than anybody else in your life. Except for Harry, later."

Severus shifted uncomfortably.

"Harry..." he said quietly. "I don't know why I felt such a strong hatred toward him..."

"You _felt_?" the old man leaned closer curiously. "It means that you don't hate him now?"

"I don't, I can't hate him, Albus. I don't know the reason, however."

The teacup clinked softly as Dumbledore put it back on its plate.

"I think I can answer your question," he said suddenly.

"Which question?" Severus sounded indifferent.

"About your hatred towards Harry," he looked at the younger man, who nodded with mild interest. "It began with your fight with James Potter and Sirius Black in your first and second year. When Quietus came, in your third year, they thought to revenge themselves on him instead of you, because he was younger and absolutely confident. They played a prank on him with a mandragora, which almost killed him. Since then, you hated them and I think James Potter's saving act didn't help either..."

"He was saving his friends' skin!" Severus snapped angrily. "He didn't give a damn about my life, Albus!"

"I know that, Severus. And when Harry arrived here, he was so similar to James..." Dumbledore didn't continue. He let Severus think about the consequences.

"I hated the boy because of James Potter. I hated James Potter because of his prank on my brother that I loved. And then, the boy turned out to be my nephew, the son of the person I cared most..." suddenly his eyes went focused. "I was an idiot to hate the boy just because of his father. And I was an idiot to love him just because of his father again!" he cried out and hit his knee with his fist.

"Severus, you didn't love the boy just because of his father. First, you learned to love him as Harry Potter. An added bonus was that he turned out to be your nephew. You took him back into your family..."

"But I don't love him any more! Yes, I don't hate him, but I cannot love him! I don't even know him, and I think I managed to chase him as far away from me as I could. There's no way back, Albus."

"Are you sure?" to Severus's surprise Dumbledore's eyes weren't twinkling. He seemed tired and old.

"I talked to him. We fought, but I understood one thing. My only way back to him would be my... affection. But the only emotion in me towards him is guilt – not a good basis to build a relationship on!"

"Try to get to know him, Severus."

The Potions Master released a bitter laugh.

"And how do you think I can do that, Albus?"

"Take him back into your potions class and offer him tutoring because of the missed three months."

Dumbledore's plan sounded interesting. Severus stood up and stretched himself.

"I will try, Albus," he said and stalked towards the door. "Good night."

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Next: as soon as Barbara sending me back.


	14. The shattered Earth

Betaed by Barbara

Ergh... she (I mean Barbara) said that this chapter is er…….. depressing. Eh, so I... er... sorry. And it's not the last one.

And another sad news: I can't continue the story until the 15th of November, but I promise that I will upload chapter 15 on the 15th – un-betaed, of course – to my yahoo group. It will appear on ff.net on cca. the 17th (as soon as Barbara sends me back).

I wrote the last chapter. I couldn't resist the temptation... :-P

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Chapter 14 – The shattered Earth 

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"Again, Mr Weasley."

"_Tempify momentum!_" Ron yelled and nervously waved his wand over the book. It didn't want to disappear, as it would have if the spell had been said correctly. He shook his head in irritation as he saw Hermione performing the spell easily and with a genuine grace in her waving.

Professor Flitwick harrumphed unsatisfied.

"Mr Weasley, try again. Concentrate on what you intend, and try to say the spell correctly."

"I'm trying," Ron murmured through his teeth. "But I can't do it."

Harry felt sympathy watching Ron's struggling. This was the second week they were practising the Timing Charm and even he had had several difficulties in casting the spell properly, and although this time he had succeeded, it was just a luck, he knew precisely. And Ron was simply less lucky than him.

The Timing Charm was one of the funniest spells: it made a thing disappear and reappear later in the same place. It was one of the charms, which tricked many times not only the Muggles, but the wizards as well, but generally, it was a common prank humorous wizards played on Muggles: they cast the charm on an object, which disappeared from sight to his owner's utter frustration when nobody was paying attention, and reappeared in the same place some times later driving the Muggle crazy, because he blamed himself for being blind: it was always under his nose, he thought...

They were now training how to cast a very short-termed Timing Charm on their books, which was just a moment long.

"_Tempify momentum!_" Ron bellowed angrily and hit the book with his wand. With a loud boom the book disappeared – this time totally. The whole class was staring at Ron's desk expectantly, but the book didn't reappear. Finally, Justin burst into laughter.

"Where the hell is your book, mate?" he choked out between two fits.

Ron nervously shrugged and cast an uncertain look at his professor.

"Probably there, Mr Finch-Fletchley," the tiny professor said after a while, then he looked at Ron. "Did you think of any special place when you cast the spell?"

Ron shrugged again and smirked tensely.

"No, not really..." he mumbled and blushed slightly.

"Are you sure, Mr Weasley? Or perhaps your classmate is right and you wished your book to hell..." professor Flitwick winked. Ron's blush deepened.

"Er... perhaps... I'm not sure."

Harry barely managed to bite back his laughter.

"Is... his book in hell, then?" Justin now was smirking widely, and the girls snickered.

The professor scratched his chin in thought.

"Since personally I don't think that hell exists, or even if it exists I don't think it's a place anyway... So the precise location of our Mr Weasley's book is untraceable... but..."

"But?" Neville leaned closer with interest. "It isn't here so it has to be somewhere!"

Many nodded approvingly and the wizard sighed.

"You have a point, Mr Longbottom, but it's not an easy question to answer. Personally I think that the book is in the place Mr Weasley considers as 'hell'. But it's also possible that he managed to send the book into the very distant future, which is like hell for him, so the precise timing was not 'a moment'."

"I see," Neville chuckled and Ron cast a sly glance at him.

"Anyway, I ask you, Mr Weasley to buy another Charms book," Flitwick said. "I don't think we will find it by the next lesson. Oh, and I want you to write a two rolls long essay on the ways you can change the place of the timed object... er... I think not in the way Mr Weasley here showed us..."

Harry was still smiling when he left the room and headed to the great hall for lunch. The only thing which lessened his good mood was the two rolls long essay... but they had the whole holiday to compose it properly, so he didn't let the homework spoil his carefree mood. He would write it well, he would have enough time to do it.

Ron caught him at the entrance of the hall and they sat next to each other at the Gryffindor table.

"I can't believe I sent my Charms book to hell," he muttered, but there was no anger in his voice, just a hint of hilarity.

"Imagine the devils' surprise when a school book appeared in front of them," Harry snickered. "Perhaps it would suggest to them some new ways to torment the damned souls."

"Oh, yes," Ron suddenly burst into a wild laughter. "Harry, look what do you think the devils say to the person they are mad at?"

Harry's eyes widened with surprise. It was the first time Ron called him by his _previous_ first name – and the first time Ron behaved so carefree in his companionship. He shook his head.

"I don't know," he looked at his mate amused.

"Go to heaven."

"What?"

"They surely say: leave me alone, go to heaven!" Ron laughed. "And imagine a devil with my magic skills... as he sends a poor, damned spirit to heaven just by chance and by mere annoyance..."

"A misdirected charm," Harry smirked. "Perhaps you will become the saviour of the underworld..."

They were already halfway through the lunch, when Harry noticed that Hermione was missing. He darted a quick glance towards the Slytherin table, but he couldn't see her sitting next to Ares, and more so, Ares was missing as well. For a moment, Harry considered going to find them, but he soon changed his mind and remained seated. It was surely a relationship-thing, and he didn't want to get involved. Instead, he looked at Padma at the Ravenclaw table and sighed in thought. He had his own "relationship"-problem, although he didn't know what kind of relationship was between him and the Ravenclaw girl. The only thing he knew was that he wasn't in love with her, although he liked her: she was pretty and intelligent, but the only thing they did together was studying (sometimes with Ron and his reluctant girlfriend). Harry wasn't sure his behaviour didn't hurt the girl, but he couldn't help it. The only female person in the castle he had a crush on was professor Noir and nobody else. But that crush was absolutely safe: the woman would never know and he would never enter into a relationship just to leave a grieving girlfriend behind. Because now, he was surer than ever, that something terribly wrong and horrible was going to happen.

Voldemort attacked him much more fervently than ever before and his visions became more frequent during his daytime naps so that the variation of his sleeping method didn't help any more. He somehow managed get away without any visions having Avery (most probably, the man was still maintaining his civil service job and family, and he didn't have time to spend every afternoon in his Lord's service), but as the visions became almost constant during the afternoons, Harry had given up. He returned to the general way of living, and he slept through the nights with the Dreamless Sleep Potion's help. He hadn't told Dumbledore the unfortunate turn of events – it was meaningless. The Headmaster couldn't do anything about it, the only 'good' thing about it was that it had proved the old man's statement: there was a spy amongst the staff, who had known about Harry's new attempts to avoid the visions. It had to be a staff member, because professor Noir had told Harry that she had unwillingly revealed her advice in a staff meeting.

"How?" Harry had been frightened.

"We were discussing my permission for you to enter the Restricted Section," she had answered, being apparently uncomfortable.

"Wasn't your permission enough?" Harry had been surprised. "I thought teachers could permit things to their students freely."

"Yes," she had shifted in her chair. "But not an unlimited permission like yours."

"I see," Harry had nodded. "I guess professor Snape was against the idea?"

The embarrassment had been clearly visible on the stern face.

"Er..." Harry hadn't needed any more proof: it had been clear.

And it was clear even now. The git!

The memory angered him so much that he couldn't finish his lunch. With a sudden movement, he jumped to his feet and marched out of the great hall. Ron stared after him in total confusion. Ron couldn't imagine what stupidity he had said to Harry again. He shook his head desperately and covered his face with his hands. When a hand touched his arm, he looked up.

"I don't think it was you," Neville said and sat next to him. "I think something suddenly occurred to him and he just wanted to be alone."

Ron's stress eased a little bit.

"I don't know," he whispered. "I don't think I know him any more. He is not the person he used to be..."

"He went through many things, Ron."

A bitter smirk crossed the red-head's face.

"I know," he said sarcastically. "He went through my torture as well."

Neville grabbed Ron's arm forcefully.

"Ron, not everything he went through is about you. His captivity, his scars, his relationship with professor Snape and after that the losses: Fred's and Snape's... You know, professor Snape and him were very close," Ron nodded. He knew, of course he knew! He could still see the professor's tear-strained face as he had held the unconscious Harry in that horrible place. "Like father and son. I saw them together many times. And, you know, I envied their relationship. And now..." he waved dismissively. "You can see."

Ron buried his face back to his hands.

"He is alone, again."

Neville's grip didn't loosen.

"He tries to keep us far away from himself."

"We have to help him somehow," Ron croaked weakly. "I don't want to hurt him again."

***************************************************************************

When Severus caught the boy – no, not the boy, but Quietus, he corrected himself – leaving lunch in a hurry, he suddenly decided himself. Now or never! With a short excuse he left the table and launched himself after the- after Quietus.

As the boy left the great hall, he began to sprint, but Severus's voice stopped him.

"STOP!" the Potions Master yelled after him. Reluctantly, the boy halted and turned around.

"Yes, sir?" he sneered sarcastically. "Do you want to deduct points for running in the hallway? Will ten points be enough?"

His tone made Severus's blood boil, but he swallowed it back purposefully.

"No," he answered tersely and added, "and don't use this tone with me."

Harry looked at him and shrugged cheekily.

"Yes sir," he said in mocking obedience. "As you wish..."

Severus clenched and unclenched his fists in anger, but didn't react immediately. Instead, he inhaled deeply and shut his eyes for a moment.

"I wanted to talk to you," he finally blurted out.

"There is nothing we can talk about," the boy said and began to turn around.

"You are not dismissed," Severus suddenly snapped. "Not yet," he added more calmly.

The boy didn't turn back, just stopped in movement.

"I just," he gulped audibly, "wanted to tell you that you can attend Advanced Potions if you'd like..."

The boy's reaction was so surprisingly fast that Severus had to back away.

"What!?" the boy whirled around and stepped closer to him. The young face was contorted with rage. "Leave me alone, professor. If you want to insult somebody in your lessons, there is Neville or Hermione, or even Parvati. You like to bully them anyway. Is that not enough for you? You want even me to ridicule, to humiliate again, as you did in the last years? _'Potter, you are an incompetent idiot! A traitor! A big-headed celebrity!'_" he mimicked Severus's tone acidly. "And you told me I would never have a chance. And I don't want a chance, not with you!" he shrieked the last part.

When Severus decided to talk to the boy, he had known, that it wouldn't be an easy conversation. But the boy had seemed so calm and kind before... He leaned against the wall.

"No," was the only word he could force out. It stopped the boy's ramblings at least. "No," he went on a little bit more self-consciously. "I was serious. And I'm offering to tutor you during the holidays..."

The ramblings suddenly continued with the same force as it had stopped.

"I. Don't. Need. You!" he cried out every word. "I don't need your stupid tutoring, I don't need your stupid potions class and last but not least I don't need you in my life any more! Can you understand? I don't need you, and you mean nothing to me!"

"I just want to help!"

The boy hit his thigh with his fist in rage.

"Help?" his eyes were blazing. "Oh, I heard about your helpful behaviour in the staff meeting!"

"I just didn't want you to get involved in another stupid, heroic thing again!" Severus replied angrily.

"I know! This is the _'you are not the celebrity you think you are, Potter' _speech, isn't it?" the boy almost spat the words.

"No!" Severus began to lose his temper. "This is the _'I don't want you to be hurt' _speech!"

Severus really didn't know which part of their conversation enraged the boy, but by now, the once calm and kind face was paled in pure fury.

"You rejected me, git! I saw, I read the document in which you state that you are not my relative, at least not legally, any more, that I'm only your _supposed _nephew, you stated officially that you rejected me, I'm not your relative, nor your nephew, nor your responsibility any more, so if you want to act on that bloody family spell, then go and protect your precious, little, filthy Death Eater godson, and leave me alone!" he turned to leave again, but this time he stopped via his own will and hissed back over his shoulder. "And I will not spend the holiday here. I will go to my _family_," he accented the last word and left.

Severus remained alone in the dark and cold hallway. Something had gone horribly wrong. And he didn't really know what it was. He had managed not to lose his temper, he didn't yell at the boy, or more: he didn't use sarcasm against him. All he tried was to be sincere, and Quietus, who in the past had been such a calm, balanced and kind boy had yelled at him with such a fury, which matched Severus's usual tantrums.

And he didn't know why, but something inside his chest was churning in pain. Was it his heart?

The boy had refused to attend Advanced Potions. He had refused to be tutored. He would spend the holidays with Black (Severus was sure that family for him had meant the Squib ex-animagus rather than any Snape), and he would have no time to get to know the boy, to learn to love, to accept him again, and now, that the situation seemed so helpless and final, he suddenly didn't want to lose him, to be shut out of his life.

Severus didn't know how he felt any more. Everything was so chaotic... Whenever he thought of his brother he felt clear and unambiguous warmness, and something else, as if his damaged memories wanted to break free from their prison, nothing solid or firm, just emotions and feelings, mostly during the night, in his sleep... In the last weeks he had dreamed many times that he had been sitting in a damp and cold place in pain and suddenly, somebody had crept near him and put a warm sweater on him and something else, like a blanket surrounded him, and the mysterious figure sat next to him and hugged him tightly. And he had heard a quiet sob, and somebody had been muttering something – and at this point he had woken up. Or another dream, which was clearer: he had been standing next to a grave watching the coffin slowly sinking into the pit, but he saw Black standing on the other side of the pit, his face tear-soaked and shattered and his chest burning with white red-hot pain... And feelings and flashing pictures like these, but the first, with the warm clothes and the hug created the greatest impression: Severus could feel those arms around him even after waking up...

And many times as his eyes caught the boy's sight somewhere in the castle, he felt such joy and affection as never before and other times in the great hall he wanted to go to him and to order him to eat more, because the boy was again nibbling. And he felt pride when a colleague mentioned that Quietus Snape received an O again in Arithmancy, Transfiguration or Charms, and these things were so scary... These feelings were his own and were not at the same time, they were familiar and strange, and sometimes they increased his frustration to unbearable levels.

But as he was standing in the empty corridor, he knew that there was only one thing he could do for the boy to show his... his what? Appreciation? Acceptation? Resignation? he didn't know, but he wanted to show Quietus that he cared for him.

He would withdraw his rejection at the Ministry – but he would ask the office to let Quietus choose where he wanted to stay. He wouldn't claim the guardianship – he would offer it. And even if the boy chose to reject him, he would see that Severus was sincere.

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If Severus had known that Harry was sitting just two corners ahead on the floor, his back against the cold stone wall, he would have followed him and tried to comfort him – but he didn't know. And Harry felt lonely, so lonely that he had felt like this only in his childhood closed in the cupboard, not having friends or any person to talk to, neglected and hated. He was hugging his knees close to his chest and rocking himself slowly back and forth, shivering strongly.

'_The git, the git, the git,_' he repeated to himself like a lullaby. He hated the man. And now, his newest try to soothe his consciousness or to torture Harry even more – he couldn't decide. Perhaps both.

He needed some time to regain his composure, but finally, he managed to stand up and push his bag to his back. He went to the library: he knew himself enough to know that reading and taking notes was a good way to distract himself from the previous conversation. He pulled some Charms books off of the shelf on his way to his favourite desk, which he hoped would be helpful with the essay he would have to write, greeted Madam Pince politely and walked to the last row of shelves.

But his desk wasn't empty. To his surprise, Hermione was sitting there deep in study, at least ten Charms books in front of her.

"I was wondering where the best charms books could be," Harry said as he put his books on the desk, "but now, I see that you've already picked them."

Hermione looked up and smiled.

"Of course. I don't want to study charms during the holidays. I decided to write this essay as long as I'm here," she suddenly noticed Harry's red eyes. "What happened?" she asked worriedly.

"Don't ask," Harry answered sourly. "Severus caught me in a hallway and we had a row..."

"What did he want?"

"He wanted me to attend his advanced potions class..."

"Wow, Quiet! It's brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed, but Harry's face remained bitter.

"I rejected the idea."

Silence.

"But... why?"

And suddenly, as if nothing had happened between them, Harry sat next to the girl, looked into her eyes and began to tell her the things, which had been buried deep inside him during the last months: the rows, his visit at the Healer, Severus's aggression, the Pensieve, Avery, the hospital, and Hermione wrapped her arm around him and Harry felt as if a heavy burden had left him, somehow the air seemed more easy to inhale, the future was brighter than ever in the last months.

"... and I think I forgave Ron," was his last sentence. Hermione nodded.

After another short silence Harry added, "And I see that your eyes are red as well."

The girl tensed, and released Harry from her embrace.

"Ares and I decided to be friends. Just friends."

Harry looked at her questioningly.

"Did you break up?"

Hermione nodded.

"It was because of me?" Harry risked another question.

"No. We just realised we are not... compatible," Hermione said finally. "And I think Ares wanted to return to Lisa, you know the Ravenclaw girl he tutored last year..."

"He cheated on you?" Harry jumped to his feet. "That bloody..."

"Stop, Quiet!" Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the chair. "It was a common decision. We tried it. It didn't go well, then we decided to go our separate ways silently, without any show and quarrels. I don't want you to be mad at Ares, he is an excellent boy, although he feels quite badly about you..."

"Why?"

"The summer's events. He saw that Sirius and professor Snape were blaming you for Fred's death..."

"Severus didn't blame me," Harry interjected truthfully. Hermione shrugged slightly.

"Ares thought he did, and he felt guilty and he told me that everything was his fault, not yours."

Harry closed his eyes.

"That was the reason he didn't want to talk to me. He was so closed in this semester, and I didn't notice..."

"You both were too wrapped up in with your problems. I think you should go and talk to him – not about me and our dating, that's not your business, but about the two of you, your guilt, and about what happened in the summer."

"Yeah," Harry muttered thinking of his Slytherin friend. "I think I shut out everybody, not only Ares."

"It's not too late, Quiet. I know that Neville too wants to talk to you, and perhaps Ron would be happier if you'd say to him you forgave him, not to me..."

A short cough stopped her. They looked up, just to find themselves face-to-face with Ron and Neville.

"Speaking of the devil," Harry muttered under his breath, but smiled. Neville smiled back, but Ron just chewed his lips nervously. "Come, sit down. Hermione collected all the books we need to write our homework."

"Er..." Ron smirked. "Hermione, can you lend me your notes?"

"What?" the girl shook her head in annoyance. "Ron Weasley, if you want to write your essay, you will have to use your own notes!"

"Hermione, please," Harry joined Ron's plea.

"Like in the good, old days," Neville said, but his words hit Harry hard.

"Nothing will be like then, Neville," he said and he turned his face to Ron, who suddenly paled. "But it doesn't mean I didn't forgive, Ron."

"You mean... we can be friends again?" Ron asked tentatively. Harry nodded.

"I think we _are_ friends again, Ron. But... this is not _that_ friendship. We both changed a lot, and I flatter myself to think we've grown up."

To ease the sudden tension, Neville opened his mouth, "Harry, I saw professor Snape went after you when you left the great hall. Does it mean that... you two are you okay, again?"

Neville's innocent question again hit Harry so forcefully that he couldn't answer just shook his head.

"No. Quite the contrary."

"Oh," Neville snickered nervously. "Apparently, today I manage to say the most stupid things in my life."

"Come on, Neville. Quiet is a little bit touchy today, but there's nothing to be sorry for," Hermione nudged Harry with her elbow. "Am I right?"

Harry rolled his eyes in mocked annoyance.

"As always, Hermione."

"Why do you call him Quiet?" Ron asked suddenly. Harry sighed.

"Neville, you have a companion in stupidity."

"Quiet!" Hermione yelled at him heatedly. "Look, you can't be hurt by every question we ask! We don't do it to hurt you, we want to know you better, and if you really decided to talk to us, you can't be offended in every moment!" she turned to Neville. "I call him Quiet, because I heard professor Snape calling him likely last year, and I found it unbecoming for him. Perhaps you remember him..."

"Yes," Ron muttered guiltily and lowered his head.

"And when I learned his true identity," she didn't add when to Harry's relief, who didn't want to remind Ron about his attack in Hogsmeade, "I had to pretend the contrary. And I got used to it."

"For me Quietus and Harry are like two different people," Neville suddenly said. "You _really_ changed, Qui- Harry. And many of us don't know how to talk to you, what to call you any more. It was all right, when you were Harry. Then it was all right when you were Quietus. But these revelations... I think many times we don't know what to say, and after your story in the great hall scared us away..." Neville cast a pensive look at him, "I think we realised then that you've grown up – and we are only kids."

After dinner, Harry caught Ares and apologised for the long silence between them.

"I'm sorry, Ares. I was such a jerk to you."

"You're mental. It was my fault as well," Ares's brown eyes smiled at him sadly. "You want to talk to me about Hermione, don't you?"

"No," Harry shook his head firmly. "It's a matter between the two of you. But Hermione told me that you blame yourself for the summer events. I do the same."

Their conversation was long and many times heated afterwards.

But in the night, when Harry finally went to bed, he felt a peace with himself and with the world – except, perhaps for Severus, of course.

***************************************************************************

The Christmas holidays were surprisingly happy – in a much more surprising place: after the attack on Black manor, Dumbledore had decided to move both Black and Anne in Mrs Figg's old home in Little Hangleton, close to 4 Privet Drive, and Harry didn't know why, but this fact somehow made him elated. It was like a game to wander around the familiar streets, hallways and avenues, and it was a little bit like returning home: everything was so familiar and different in the same time. The biggest difference was that the inhabitants of Privet Drive didn't look at him with that special kind of expression: fear mixed with well-covered curiosity (as you look at the beasts in the ZOO), but they treated him as the godson of their newest neighbour, Mr Black, who was a perfect gentlemen, albeit sometimes a little bit strange, and whose daughter, to Mrs Dursley's amazement attended the same school her son did long ago.

Sirius told Harry that when he first had seen Anne talking to Mrs Dursley (who, naturally, had wanted some details about their new neighbour) he could barely restrain himself from behaving in an un-gentlemanlike way.

"If I had had my wand and my magic, I would have cursed her to oblivion," he said heatedly. "I remembered how they had treated you, and I remembered how they were standing next to your grave in the cemetery – without tears or feelings... And later they rejected you..."

"Don't take it so hard, Sirius," Harry shrugged. "I'm glad they didn't want me, and now, they can't recognise me, and it seems to be fun for me."

Harry was quite taken aback when he first saw Dudley with his gang: his cousin wasn't as fat as he remembered, although he still didn't have a neck and he was large, but apparently, even he had begun to grow up.

One thing was strange to Harry: he had to live again in a Muggle house, and when he entered his bedroom (the smallest, again: the largest was the two girls' – Hermione lived with them again – and the other was Sirius's) he had to open the window not to feel suffocated. This fact astonished him: after ten years in a cupboard it should have been easier, but apparently, some mental scars remained behind after that two weeks in Voldemort's prison: he felt the same, sickening feeling emerging in his throat, which had attacked him many times after their escape. Perhaps he would never come off the ropes. Just like he would never get through Severus's walls – mostly, because he didn't want it any more. In his life he had to suffer so many changes... Losing Severus was only one of them, a painful one, but only one.

But, all in all, it was a happy Christmas with a lot of gifts for everyone, with crackers and oranges, Muggle crackers in a typical Muggle Christmas, but Sirius seemed much happier than last year, mostly when Lupin arrived with a lot of boxes.

Harry could see that the Muggle way of feasting the Christmas wasn't his glass of butterbeer, but he joined them for some days.

When Sirius invited him to spend New Year's Eve with them, he politely refused.

"There will be a little meeting in the Headquarters, and the whole Order will be on alert – you know how the Death Eaters like to celebrate the New Year."

"Yeah," Sirius muttered. "With torturing and murdering."

"You have to be very careful. Don't leave Little Hangleton. Here you are safe under the Fidelius..."

"Remus, be very cautious. As our secret keeper..."

"This is why I have to stay in Snape Manor with Dumbledore. We will not go on raids. We will be the directors there..."

"Who is your secret keeper?"

"I don't know. Dumbledore knows – and of course, the secret keeper. And perhaps Minerva..."

Sirius shook his head.

"I hate this secretiveness. It will cause no good."

"You are paranoid."

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The telly program was quite boring, so Harry was half-asleep on the sofa, in front of the screen, while Sirius and Hermione were arguing about something – it had to be Anne, again. Harry smiled. Any time Anne came up, Sirius and Hermione soon found themselves deep in argument – and although Harry had never joined their quarrel, he agreed with Hermione: Sirius had been spoiling the girl. The man and the girl were absolutely besotted with each other, but it caused that Sirius simply wasn't able to say 'no' to her. Fortunately, they had left the living room, and so their conversation wasn't too loud and Harry could slumber.

He wasn't really asleep, he was somewhere at the border of dream and wakefulness, but as a tearing pain ripped the scar on his forehead open, he knew that it wasn't a wise idea nevertheless.

He felt himself slipping from the sofa, his heads clutching his forehead madly, but it didn't last too long: soon, the living room disappeared together with the sofa and the telly and the soft conversation from the kitchen and Harry found himself standing in the centre of the living room in Snape Manor, and before he could think anything else, he knew that Sirius was right. There was a problem, again, with the secret keepers.

Voldemort, and at least twenty of his best Death Eaters were standing in the manor's living room, surrounding three pale, fragile figures: one with long, white hair and beard – Dumbledore, another with sandy hear and hazel eyes – Remus Lupin, and a witch, with long, brown hair and eyes – professor Noir. Three people from Harry's life he cared about most, three people he loved... And even if Harry knew that Dumbledore was indeed a very powerful wizard, he also knew that they had no chance. No chance to resist, no chance to survive.

"No!" he shrieked desperately. "No!" he sobbed. "Remus! Headmaster! Professor! No!"

And the next moment the room almost erupted as curses and hexes zoomed towards the standing figures. Voldemort was wise enough not to open a dialog with his worst enemy. He just attacked along with his lackeys, the Inner Circle, Harry knew them well from his previous visions. Remus was the first to be hit by a curse. He fell to his knees, but didn't lower his wand.

"Remus, go!" Dumbledore yelled at him. "Go! You can't remain here!" He couldn't say anything else, just cast a quick shield around the now retching man. "Use the Portkey now!"

"_Crucio!_" somebody yelled and suddenly, professor Noir collapsed to the ground crying out in pain.

"_Finite Incantatum!_" Lupin waved his wand and stood up. His face was almost green. A hex attacked his stomach. "Armena!"

The woman looked towards him just to realise that a small object was flying towards her.

"Tell them I'm sorry," Lupin said as the woman caught the Portkey. In the next moment, she disappeared.

"Lupin, watch out!" Dumbledore yelled again. "_Thorax!_"

But his attempt to protect Lupin failed: the Unforgivable hit Lupin in his chest. Shriek.

"_Crucio!_"

"_Crucio!_"

"_Crucio!_"

"_Crucio!_" the numberless, identical yells seemed like a madman's song with a twisted rhythm.

Lupin wasn't able to stand up any more. He was rolling on the ground shrieking aloud.

"_Crucio!_" Avery yelled.

"_Crucio!_" Draco Malfoy yelled.

"_Crucio!_" Macnair yelled.

Harry sobbed together with the screaming and weeping werewolf, his friend.

"Remus, Remus, come home," he couldn't say anything else, but then, under the attack's power, Dumbledore suddenly fell onto his knees.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Harry couldn't believe it. Dumbledore couldn't die. He was the greatest wizard of the century. He was his mentor, his anchor in the war, his captain...

"_Crucio!_" Voldemort yelled, and the old man doubled over in pain.

"_Crucio!_" Malfoy yelled and Remus wasn't able to shriek any more at the horrible torment.

"_Crucio!_"

"_Crucio!_"

"_Crucio!_"

"_Crucio!_" nothing else, just this one word ten times, hundred times, thousand times – and first shrieks, later moans and rolling. Then silence.

"And now, look, old man, as your last companion goes before you," Voldemort said and stepped toward Lupin. "_Ennervate._"

Lupin opened his eyes, but he couldn't move.

"Look, old man, at what will be the doom of your pitiful organisation." He grabbed Lupin's hair and lifted him so that Dumbledore could see his ex-colleague.

"No problem, Albus. It was a good fight," Lupin said and Harry could see the tears on the old, tormented face. Suddenly, Voldemort lifted Lupin's face pressing his wand under the man's chin.

"Bye, bye, little werewolf. _Avada Kedavra._"

"REMUS!" Harry screamed in strong physical and emotional pain and watched as the man's corpse dropped unceremoniously onto the ground. "Remus, Remus..."

"This is the end, old man."

"You can't win, Tom," Dumbledore croaked quietly and didn't even shudder, when his enemy's wand pressed against his forehead.

"_Avada Kedavra._"

Harry felt as if he had hit the ground after a dive from the Astronomy Tower. His chest and head exploded in unbearable pain and he was falling into the darkness...

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"Harry?"

"Sirius?" Harry's fogged mind somehow recognised his godfather's voice. "Water..."

Cool glass touched his lips and he opened his mouth. One draught, another... enough.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Simple words.

"Remus is dead," Harry said.

"I know."

"The Headmaster too," he added weakly.

"We found them not long after the attack."

"They were outnumbered."

"Armena told me."

"Lupin told the Headmaster that that was a good fight."

Silence.

"And the Headmaster told Voldemort he couldn't win."

Soft trembling from the bedside.

"I don't believe him, Sirius."

The fog returned.

A door creaked. Hurried footsteps.

"Is he all right, Black?"

"No."

"What happened?"

"He saw everything. He had a vision."

Someone tottered to the bed. The mattress twitched as somebody lowered himself onto it.

Weeping. Harry could hear through the cotton-like fog the noises of two soft cries. Then somebody lifted him into a strong embrace, and he felt the hot tears in his hair, the trembling of a chest.

Later, some hours or days ago, the fog slowly disappeared. He felt a warm body lying next to him.

"Severus?" he asked.

"I'm Anne," a thin voice answered and two, little arms embraced him. "We are here with you."

Next time it was Hermione, later Sirius again.

And he was transported to another place as the previous became too noisy, but he could hear the noisy filtered through the walls: a lot of people coming and going.

"Very, very traumatic physical and emotional shock," he heard once in the Head Healer's tired voice. "I don't know if he will ever be the same. After that summer, and later those other events... And now, this..."

Another embrace, and Hermione's soft plea, "Quiet, Quiet, please, wake up..." but he couldn't, he just couldn't. He knew that he was given Dreamless Sleep Potion from time to time: he could recognise the taste.

"You will poison him!" Severus was arguing with Madam Pomfrey, but the nurse cooled the irate Potions Master.

"I have to give it to him, Severus. We can't allow him to see another vision. It could kill him."

"The potion will kill him as well. Don't give him any more."

"We need time, Severus. Please, understand me."

Later, he was transported again. That day he felt he could open his eyes.

He was in the Infirmary. Perhaps, he should really move in, as Madam Pomfrey offered some weeks ago.

"Harry?"

Hermione was sitting next to his bed.

"Can you give me some water?"

He drank. He felt the mere water better than anything he had ever drunk.

"How long?" he asked. He didn't have to add any more, Hermione understood his question.

"Eight days."

Harry nodded.

"The traitor is a member of the Order," he said suddenly. "The traitor killed the Headmaster and Remus. Not Voldemort. Do you know who was that?"

"No," Hermione answered. "Nobody knows."

Silence.

"Where is Sirius?"

"In professor Noir's quarters with Anne."

"Who brought me here?"

"Fletcher," but now, Hermione decided to elaborate the answer. "The Portkey Remus gave to her, portkeyed professor Noir to our house. It was Lupin's, a special Portkey for secret keepers. We arrived in the living room in the same time as she did. You were rolling there and screaming like a madman. We tried to shake you out of your vision, but we couldn't. The healer said that it was because you didn't want to leave them alone there."

Harry nodded.

"I wanted to help them," he said hoarsely.

"Some minutes later Fletcher arrived. He had tried to contact with the Headmaster through the fire, but the fireplace was closed. Then he decided to check on us. We were a complete mess. You were screaming and bleeding in Sirius's arms, who tried to hold you down not to hurt yourself any more, I was holding Anne, who was shocked, professor Noir was just trembling and unable to utter a word... The Death Eaters tortured them at least for forty minutes – at least it took forty minutes for you to black out. I'm happy you regained consciousness. We were frightened that the prolonged Cruciatus drove you mad."

"What was that big noise some days ago?"

"The Headmaster's and Remus's funeral."

Harry suddenly closed his eyes begging for the fog to return.

But it didn't return. The life must go on.

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Next: see the header!!!!! (the top of the page)


	15. Dark tunnel

Betaed by Barbara

WARNING! This chapter doesn't make much sense without the previous and the future chapters!

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Chapter 15 – Dark tunnel

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Harry felt weak. And sick. And extremely numb. As if all strength had been drained from him. His whole life seemed so unreal, so different... He tried to pretend that everything was okay, but, of course, nobody believed him, and everywhere he went, worrying glances followed his every step, and it was so unnerving as well...

Some days later than his schoolmates, he also had begun to attend his classes, but he couldn't find his place. He couldn't concentrate. Dumbledore was nowhere. And his absence was unsupportable to Harry. He felt an enormous hole inside, as if everything suddenly had turned meaningless – and perhaps really, everything had become meaningless. What hope could they have now? What help could they find?

How could the old man just die as he had done? He was supposed to be the greatest wizard of his age! He was supposed to be able to defend himself even against a whole army of death eaters! And even more so, he was supposed to be able to defeat them!

But he... he had just died. In pain. Without a real fight, real resistance. And he even let Remus die alongside with him. How could he...?

After all those deaths Harry had had to see through his connection with Voldemort, he simply couldn't have used to see people dying. And the killing of Remus Lupin and Albus Dumbledore had weighed even more on his shoulders, on his very soul.

He wanted them to live. To be there, there for all those people who loved them, who needed them.

Harry noticed that he wasn't able any more to look at the head table in the great hall, although Dumbledore's chair hadn't remained empty. Professor McGonagall, as the deputy Headmistress had taken up his place soon, too soon for Harry's taste, but Hermione had agreed with her professor: life had to go on.

"It's more than two weeks since we buried professor Dumbledore," she had told Harry quietly once they had been sitting in the library together. "The students, the school need somebody to lead them."

And she had been right, Harry knew precisely, but it didn't diminish his bad feelings about his Transfigurations teacher. Although she wouldn't remain his Transfigurations teacher for too long: the board of the governors was about to appoint her as the newest Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Harry was absolutely lost in thoughts. If the board appointed McGonagall, then they would need another Transfiguration teacher, and Harry didn't feel ready to face a new person who didn't know him and approached him through his or her prejudices or expectations... He didn't fancy changes. He wanted everything to remain the same way they had been before, but inside he knew that nothing would be the same, ever...

His classmates' excited questions snapped him out of his thoughts.

"What could have happened?" Parvati asked Neville not even trying to whisper. "The lesson was supposed to have begun more than ten minutes ago and professor Noir still isn't here!"

It was strange, really. Generally, their youngest professor was as punctual as their Transfiguration professor or more so. She had never been late, not even one minute, not to mention ten!

Foreboding squeezed his throat. It had to have something to do with Dumbledore's death, Harry suspected.

And then, the door opened up with a loud boom and Severus marched into the classroom in a very foul mood.

"Open your books in page 122. Take notes," he barked, his anger clearly visible on his face.

After the first moment of total shock and stillness everybody jumped to obey their less favourite professor not wanting to annoy him even more. Only Harry sat still and unmoving.

"What happened to professor Noir?" he asked calmly, but in a perfectly audible voice.

As the question left his mouth, he suddenly noticed the extreme weirdness of the situation. It reminded him to another Defence class, when Lupin had been missing (at the thought of Remus Lupin, his heart clenched even more, and something began to prickle his eyelashes) and he had confronted Snape – _Severus _Snape, he corrected himself – about his favourite teacher's whereabouts. Then, his question had earned quite a lot of lost points and rude words. Now, the situation was slightly different.

The Potions Master whirled towards him, with an apparent jolt.

"You are here!" he asked-said in the same time, but in the next moment understanding dawned on his face. "Oh," he added. "You are in advanced defence after all..."

The class went very quiet and everybody looked at them curiously. What would Snape do to Harry?

Snape, contrary to the possible expectations didn't do anything nasty, just sighed.

"She couldn't come," he said and surprisingly, he didn't deduct points.

"Why?" Harry asked dryly. He wasn't impressed by the Potions Master's quiet demeanour.

"Official business," Severus answered, still calmly. "But now, take notes."

"Was it the Ministry?" Harry insisted.

"Mr Snape," from their Potions teacher's lips the name sounded more than strange, "this is a lesson. Open your book and take notes."

For a while, they stared at each other in a silent fight. And then, Severus lowered his eyes and said very, very softly, "please."

Hearing the pleading undertones, Harry didn't resist any more. He opened his book and ran through the words with his eyes, not even seeing them: his thoughts were elsewhere.

Something had happened. Something horrible and irreversible, he could feel it in his bones. And Severus was so strange... so quiet and cautious and his first harshness with which hehad  entered the class had disappeared so quickly when he had realised Harry's presence. Harry didn't know what to think. He eyed his uncle warily, searching for some signs to understand him, but the man sat down at the teacher's desk and went through his colleague's notes in absolute silence. This made Harry even more nervous. The implications of Severus's behaviour were obvious. The man was studying his colleague's notes, because she wouldn't return. Harry felt his hands trembling.

After the end of the lesson he remained behind. He waited until everybody else left the room and tentatively stepped closer to the teacher's desk.

"Sir?" he asked politely.

The man was seemingly taken aback at Harry's tentative word.

"Yes?" he replied tiredly.

"What happened to professor Noir?"

"The Ministry arrested her. On the charge of betraying Lupin and the Headmaster."

Harry almost collapsed.

"But... it wasn't her! If Remus hadn't given her his Portkey, she would have died alongside the Headmaster!"

They were standing on opposite sides of the desk, face-to-face without the almost usual animosity between them. Neither Harry nor Severus was seething in anger against the other, they were just standing in a companionable-like silence for a while. Finally, Severus opened his mouth, "I know. But we don't have any proof. And the political pressure was too strong. Patil had to do something."

"I see..." Harry's voice faded.

Severus circled the desk and stepped up to Harry.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice slightly worried. Harry stepped back.

"Of course," the coldness returned to his tone. "Never better," he added and with some quick steps he was out of the classroom.

***************************************************************************

He was so lost... The Ministry had arrested professor Noir and Harry could really understand the Minister's motifs. He had to do something to calm down the wizarding population. Dumbledore's death had been an unbelievably enormous shock for them: many of the non-pureblood families had decided to leave the country, the chaos was too great and it was just growing more and more, and Patil, of course, didn't want the Ministry to seem impotent. He had to do something, so he had professor Noir arrested – she had been the most suspicious person anyway. But she couldn't be the traitor – she hadn't been at the school and in the Order last year, and he and Severus and even the Headmaster had known that there had been a spy amongst them at that time – and although Noir could have been a second spy on them, Harry simply couldn't believe it. She was in the Order only for a few months, it was impossible that Dumbledore would have appointed her as the Order's secret keeper.

Secret keeper, indeed. Sometimes, Harry too really hated the secretiveness about it, but he could understand the reasons. There was a spy in his organisation and Dumbledore hadn't known who to trust any more. This was the main reason he had kept secret the identity of the secret keeper. It had to be somebody the Headmaster had trusted without hesitation, but there were too many suspicious candidates in the Order to Harry's taste. And he, simply, couldn't decide whom to suspect. Professor McGonagall? She had been the Headmaster's friend for too long and the same went for Professors Flitwick and Sprout. Trelawney was too stupid for this role – and truth to be told, Harry didn't know precisely who out of Hogwarts' staff were members of the Order as well. And, perhaps, it wasn't necessary that the secret keeper had been a member of the Order either.

Harry was so absolutely occupied by his thoughts that he almost missed meals. It was Ron who dragged him to eat and Hermione who helped him to find the classrooms for the next lessons. But by the end of the day his plan was ready: he would try to talk to the investigators and offer his testimony under the effect of Veritaserum, so they would be compelled to leave Noir alone, or, at least, they would not have enough proof to keep her under arrest. Once he decided what to do he acted without any further hesitation and before going to bed, he sat down and composed a letter to the Minister himself, in which he offered his help in clearing professor Noir of the pending charges. When he was ready he made a short trip to the owlery and gave the letter to Arthur (he hadn't claimed Hedwig back from Hermione after his identity had been revealed: his snowy owl seemed to have grown affectionate towards the girl, and Harry had thought it better to leave it that way). The big, brown owl hooted as he spotted the boy, and stretched his wing in anticipation.

"Arthur, bring this letter to the Minister, personally. You don't have to wait for the answer."

The owl hooted again and fled out of the window. As Harry stared after him, he couldn't help but remember the Christmas in Snape Manor last year, his best Christmas ever, with Sirius and Remus and Severus, he remembered Severus's permission to call him dad, but since then everything had changed... Hermione had lost her parents the Weasleys had lost Fred, Sirius was no longer a wizard, Remus had died and Severus had lost his memories... The war was cruel to everybody, but Harry many times felt that it was even crueller to him and now, the woman he liked was gone as well, and he could only hope that his letter would have some effect after all.

It was at this point, when Harry decided to finish the war as soon as he could. Yes, he didn't want to die, but his hesitation created new victims every day, and if he had to die anyway, there was no point in putting it off any longer. He still had Noir's permission to the Restricted Section, and he had to hurry. Time was not on his side. But not this evening. He was too tired to study, to research. Slowly, he went back to his room, to his bed. The Dreamless Sleep Potion was standing in the night table as if it was waiting for him. Harry sat on the bed and stared at the tiny bottle.

It was a fight he fought every night.

It was a fight he had lost every night since he had come out of his comatose state after the Headmaster and Lupin's death. It was the second half of January. It had been more than a month that he had been taking the potion to sleep. But he wasn't sure he was in the first stage of addiction any more. His fingers caressed the vial unhurriedly. He didn't want to take the potion.

But... he wasn't sure he could not take it.

And most of all, he wasn't sure he was ready for another go with Voldemort in his dreams.

***************************************************************************

"Quiet, Quiet! Did you read it?" Hermione's voice was so loud and sudden that Harry jumped in surprise.

Hermione wasn't the yelling kind, and they were in the library. Something very nasty or important must have happened if she was yelling so deliberately. He lifted his eyes from the essay he was writing for McGonagall – or better to say for McGonagall's successor, because she, as a Headmistress wouldn't teach any more – and looked at Hermione.

"What happened?" he asked and yawned. Hermione didn't answer, she instead reached out her hand and gave Harry a special copy of the _Daily Prophet_. "Oh, no," Harry groaned before even opening it. "Tell me it isn't Rita Skeeter, please."

"It is," Hermione barked shortly.

Harry pushed his books away and cast a closer look at the front page. WHO IS RESPONSIBLE? it read in capital letters and just below it there was a photo of the burial ceremony.

"It's Voldemort," Harry hissed angrily through his teeth.

"Pardon?"

Harry turned to her.

"I said Voldemort. Because he is the one responsible, if that lunatic woman wants the proper answer to her question."

"Well, she has another assumption," Hermione choked back and dropped herself to the chair next to Harry's. "Read. Just read it, and you will see." Her hands were trembling forcefully.

Harry forced his eyes back to the newspaper, and it didn't take too long to understand Hermione's anger. Empty accusations, exaggerated statements, one-sided opinions as always. But the writer's aim was obvious: to get rid of the minister of magic for good. By the end of the article he was fuming with anger as well.

"I don't know what to think," he said after he had finished it, "but I have a feeling that she didn't write this article on her own. Somebody forced her, or blackmailed her, I don't know, but... it's more than a bit unlike her. To attack the Minister of Magic..."

"I thought the same," Hermione nodded darkly. "And it's very unlike of the Prophet to release a special copy AND to attack the Minister of Magic in it..."

Both sat in silence.

"I have some evil forebodings," Hermione suddenly blurted out. "I don't know what Patil's reaction will be to their accusations, but I'm afraid he will resign..."

"Oh, come on, Hermione, it's just an article," Harry tried to lighten her mood, but without success.

"His most probable successor is Amos Diggory," she said calmly. Too calmly.

To the mention of the name, Harry shuddered.

"Cedric's father..." he muttered.

"And also a leader of a very big party, which wants more forceful action against Voldemort and his followers. They are accusing Patil of being too weak and hesitant and too defensive, and they say that the Ministry should be more offensive. They want somebody stronger, who would act without hesitation..."

"So they want a dictator..." Harry muttered.

"... and they want it to be Amos Diggory," she finished her sentence.

"Beautiful. Dictatorship just like in the days of the previous war."

"Precisely. They say that the wizarding world needs a hard, resolute leader like in those days."

Harry sighed.

"Who was the Minister then by the way?"

"Mercury McGonagall," Hermione said promptly.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

"Was he the professor's father?" he asked surprised.

"Oh, no," Hermione cracked a half-smile. "He was her husband."

"Oh, my God..." Harry couldn't even swallow he was so stunned. "And... what happened to him?"

"He retired not long after you defeated Voldemort. He said the war was finally over and he wasn't needed any more. And he wasn't too popular a politician. He established those summary courts, which sent hundreds of wizards in prison without proper trials, and many proved later to be innocent, like Sirius or Terry Boots's father... Later he tried to make excuses for his deeds, he said it had been a war, and his only aim had been to protect the wizarding world and stuff like that..."

Harry nodded silently. A few minutes later, another thought occurred to him.

"Is he still alive?"

Hermione shrugged.

"I didn't read about his death, so..."

"He is a supporter of Diggory's Action Party," Ron's appearance was really sudden. Harry and Hermione jerked their heads in his direction surprised. "Dad thinks he is the real leader of the party, and Amos Diggory is just a puppet in his hand. But because of his reputation, he doesn't want to show himself publicly."

"And what about professor McGonagall?" Hermione asked suddenly. "She doesn't seem to me that... aggressive kind."

Ron smirked widely.

"I asked Dad the same. He told me that they divorced when the professor began to work in Hogwarts. In that time Dumbledore was his biggest political opponent..."

Harry couldn't pay attention to Ron any longer. His thoughts were wandering about the facts he had learned just a few minutes before. His professor had become a member of Hogwarts' staff when her husband was the Minister of Magic. Now, the professor was about to become the Headmaster of the school, the second on the lists of most important wizarding places right after the Ministry and her husband, or ex-husband was returning to the Ministry again... Was it a coincidence, or more?

This question wouldn't leave him in peace the rest of the week, and even the other, not less important happenings could avert his thought from that, although quite a lot unexpected things happened. One of these was the appointment of the new Transfiguration teacher – Harry almost jumped up in joy when he saw Fletcher sitting in professor Flitwick's old place, the tiny Charms professor moved next to the Headmistress as the new Deputy Headmaster. The identity of the other new teacher – not a teacher, just a lecturer, Hermione abruptly corrected him – was even more unexpected.

"And I want to welcome George Weasley, who will help professor Snape in the future, since professor Snape will take over Professor Noir's classes until she returns..." the applause, which erupted in this moment simply forced the new Headmistress to close her mouth. Later that day, Harry learned that George was the new secret keeper of Sirius and Anne.

"Really?" he asked the serious-faced boy, or rather: man. "But why? I mean why you?"

George shrugged.

"Because I'm quite safe here at Hogwarts, and Sirius and the girl need security. And when Snape recommended me to the governors, you know Fred and I were always quite good in Potions, and they accepted me as his assistant, the Headmistress thought that it would be best if I became the new Secret Keeper. I accepted it. That's why."

Suddenly, two different feelings attacked Harry. The first was fear: McGonagall knew about George being the Secret Keeper, or even more it was she, who had suggested it. The second wasn't so selfless: it was jealousy. Harry was jealous of George, because Severus had recommended him, he had accepted him publicly while he, Harry was still rejected, officially and publicly...

He couldn't help but tremble in frustration and excused himself as fast as he could. He wanted to be alone.

***************************************************************************

Severus was panicked and thoroughly scared.

"But Minerva! We have to do something!"

"Severus, try to calm down, please. I think they will release Harry today, or perhaps tomorrow, and we can't do anything now..."

"Minerva you can't be serious! You know Amos, you know Mercury! Amos blames Harry of his son's death, and Mercury hates everything related to you or me!" Severus yelled, his locks flying around his head as he paced in front of the fireplace. "You see what's happened in the last two weeks since they took over the Ministry! They found Armena guilty and they turned her into a Squib like Black and tossed her in Liberty! Her trial was a farce! And when Harry wanted to defend her, they called him her accomplice, and arrested him immediately..."

McGonagall closed her eyes in distress.

"It was a mistake of his to put his opinion in the newspaper..."

"Patil told me that the boy sent the letter to him first. Just after he had resigned Harry sent that blasted letter to the _Daily Prophet_!"

"I don't know what can we do, Severus. I don't know if they want a trial, and if the answer is yes, when..."

"But they accepted a lot of Aurors back! Those Aurors, who were fired when Arcus became the Minister! Those BASTARDS, Minerva!"

"Severus! Calm down, please. I don't think they will hurt Harry. And yelling at me doesn't help. Now, we can't do anything. You know that."

Severus almost collapsed on the sofa.

"I don't want to know that, Minerva."

He didn't want to agree. He wanted to do something, to go, to yell, to beat, if it was needed. He didn't want the boy in that place. He spent more than four months there. Four months of physical and mental torture, fear, pain... And now the boy was exposed to those bastards, like he was, but with much less reason. He, Severus was undeniably guilty of those horrendous things he had been accused of, but Harry was innocent. He buried his face in his hands.

"You want him out," the woman said softly.

"You were right Minerva, you know," he mumbled into his palms. "When you called me a fool. I was a fool when I chucked out the boy. I already regretted it, long ago. But he doesn't want to forgive me, and I can understand that. And now, I can't help him." He felt a light touch on his shoulder.

"Do you love him, Severus?"

The Potions Master gulped.

"I don't know, Minerva. I feel worry. I'm terrified. I want him to be here, to be cheeky and obnoxious, but be here, where I can see him, where I can know that he is safe..."

Silence.

"Sirius told me that you visited Harry in the hospital wing. That you offered to take care of him during the funeral preparations."

Severus lifted his face.

"He couldn't remain in the hospital wing, Minerva. The Mortuary..."

"I know," the Headmistress nodded. "But Harry would have been fine with Sirius."

"Yeah..." he buried his face back. He didn't want the woman to see his weakness. "I was terrified that he would never be sane... That amount of Cruciatus..."

"You care for him, Severus."

But then, Severus didn't need the Headmistress words. As he saw inwardly the boy's unconscious body lying in the Infirmary bed again, and later on his bed in the dungeons, and his heart clenched in fear and worry, he knew. He cared for the boy, quite deeply.

The feeling seemed brand new and extremely familiar in the same time.

He wanted Harry back. Back, in every sense of the word: back in the school, back in his life, in his quarters, in his family... Back. To keep and to watch him. To help him to grow up, to be there when he would settle down, to help him whenever he would need a helping hand... The feeling was sudden, or was it just his realisation that was sudden?

He entered his office in thought. He was so dazed that he didn't realise George was there, only noticing when he almost fell over the young man's outstretched legs.

"Oh, sorry, sir," the red-headed boy smiled apologetically and pulled his legs into a normal position.

"It's Severus," Severus said quietly. "And it was my fault. I didn't notice you were here."

"Grading the first years essays," George waved at a pile of parchments on the sofa next to him.

"That's all right. You don't need to justify why you are here. It's your office as well," Severus sat down at his chair and pulled a pile, similar to George's closer to him. Working always had a calming effect on him.

"What will happen to Harry now?" George asked softly.

"Minerva is clueless. I also. I don't know what could we do."

George leaned back on the sofa and looked at his colleague.

"Perhaps you need a good lawyer."

"I agree," Severus sighed. "I think I should contact Andrus."

George lifted a questioning eyebrow.

"My second cousin," Severus explained. "He is a lawyer in Australia. But I think if I ask him, he will come."

***************************************************************************

The first day and night in prison was quite boring for Harry. They didn't do anything to him, just put in a cell and left him alone. Well, the cell was small, cold and wet, but there was a bed-like thing in a corner – but he discovered quite quickly that he wasn't supposed to sit down until he was permitted. Sitting on the bed was a transgression, and the jailer had soon enlightened him that the transgression could have some painful consequences, so Harry stood and leaned against the wall.

At nine p.m. he was finally allowed to lie down, but he couldn't sleep. "... _the addiction in the first stage doesn't seem dangerous. The only negative impact is that the user can't sleep any more without its usage_" he remembered the potions book's remarks about the Dreamless Sleep Potion, but he wasn't really worried. Non sleeping meant non dreaming and non seeing visions, so it was okay for him. He just lay staring at the ceiling during the whole night, and trying to find out what would happen.

The second day was even more boring, and the standing seemed much more exhausting than Quidditch practice. Surely, non sleeping during the night had its negative impact on Harry's stamina, but Harry suspected that it had more to do with the boredom than with the wakefulness.

Then, the second night arrived, and Harry was deadly tired. But he couldn't sleep, not even for a short period of time. He lay dazed on the berth and cursed himself for taking Dreamless Sleep Potion for too long. By the morning, he was so exhausted that he could barely stand up, and an unfamiliar anger burned inside him.

From seven to ten, he somehow managed to remain erect, but as times passed, he couldn't help but sit – not on the bed, that was prohibited, but on the floor, leaning against the wall. His muscles were sore, his head was spinning, and the stupid anger just boiled inside him.

He didn't receive lunch, because sitting was prohibited as well, but he didn't care. Sitting was better than standing.

And at seven in the evening, they came and the interrogation began.

They didn't hit him, either with curses or with fists. They just bound him to the chair and poured some Veritaserum down his throat.

"What's your name?" a familiar voice asked. Harry shuddered. It was the old Auror from the last year. Bamberg, his name was Bamberg, Harry suddenly remembered.

"I won't tell you," he said and his back arched in pain. "I won't tell you," he repeated and bit his lips together with his teeth as his anger found an outlet in resisting the man he hated.

Somebody grabbed his head and opened his mouth brutally. Another dose of Veritaserum slipped down his throat.

"What's your name?" Bamberg asked again.

Harry didn't answer. Fighting the Veritaserum was like fighting the Imperius, although the Imperius gave a little euphoria to the people hit by it, while the Veritaserum somehow blanked his mind and wanted his conscious self to sink under the surface of the blankness and apathy and not to bother with words and truths any more... And resisting it was much more painful.

"NO!" he somehow choked out and the unbearable pain simply knocked him out.

When later he regained consciousness, he could feel that his resistance had remained firm even during his unconsciousness. The Aurors around him were livid. Another dose of truth serum slipped into his mouth and he swallowed it.

After another half an hour of continuous struggling he blacked out again. And again. And again.

When they tossed him into his cell and he collapsed on the floor half-consciously, he thought that he had never heard of such a thing before. Resisting Veritaserum was unheard of. And he did it, just to have something new to add to his freakishness.

He couldn't fight one consequence of the serum though. He was so sick that he couldn't stop vomiting during the whole next day.

The next evening was similar, although much shorter. Apparently, the Aurors thought the first day's truth serum wrong, and they ordered another batch from another Potions Master. When they saw that it didn't work, they simply brought him back to his cell.

Another day, without meals, water (nothing remained in his stomach) or sleeping.

The next day a very familiar-looking man appeared in his cell door.

"Severus?" he asked dazedly.

"No," the man answered. "My name is Andrus. I'm Severus's second cousin."

***************************************************************************

"I saw no sign of physical abuse, Severus. Although Harry told me that he was given Veritaserum and resisting it was very painful," the tall man with brown hair and eyes finished his speech and crossed his arms over his chest. "But that's not physical abuse."

The black-haired man hit the desk with his fist.

"We have to get him out at any cost! He can't remain there, they will kill him!"

The lawyer leaned forward, closer to his cousin and asked quietly, "How long has Harry been taking Dreamless Sleep Potion?"

Severus's clenched fist suddenly unclenched, and the Potions Master looked weak and tired.

"What?" he choked out.

"I could see the symptoms of deprivation on him, Severus. He's been in prison for five days, but he shows every symptoms of that blasted..." he didn't continue.

They sat in silence for a while.

"Symptoms?" Severus asked in a tiny voice. When his cousin nodded, he sighed. "It has to be two months at least, then."

"He doesn't sleep. He has intense mood swings. He is throwing up everything he has eaten or drunk. And you know quite well that resisting Veritaserum is the strongest symptom."

"But that shows that Harry is in the third phase of the blasted addiction!" Severus cried in exasperation.

"That's not certain, Severus. Harry told me that he could resist Imperius..."

"Yeah," Severus muttered and his face lightened a bit. "Does it mean that…?"

"Yes," Andrus scratched his neck. "I guess he is in the beginning of the second phase of addiction. But, Severus, our priority is to save Harry from there. Once he is out, you can take care of his addiction. But for now, I have to say that I see no chance to bring him out legally as things stand. Your new Minister screwed up the whole legal system with his newest decrees."

"What can we do now?"

"Play the same game they played. Contact the newspapers or the Wizarding Radio programs. And tell them about your common captivity in You-Know-Who's prison. Be moving and touching. Not rational. People don't need rational words. They need moving stories. Give it to them."

"I'm not the type, Andrus. And I don't remember our captivity. At all. Not even a little bit of it."

"Do you love him, Severus?" Andrus stood up and looked at his cousin. When he nodded slightly 'yes', he went on. "Then do it for him."

***************************************************************************

Sitting in the cell had one big advantage: Harry had enough time to think about a lot of things. As he had finally learned from Andrus he was charged for the murder of Cedric and for complicity in the murders of Fred, Remus and Dumbledore. And deep inside, whatever else Andrus had wanted him to think, he felt guilty of some of those crimes.

It was his carelessness, which had killed Cedric, but now, almost two years after the Hufflepuff's death, he felt much less responsible than he did in Fred's case.

But... he had his excuses, of course. And even Dumbledore had told him not to blame himself. He had just wanted to protect Ares. But he did it in the wrong way. He hadn't thought about the possible consequences of his permission to let Ares come. He had been stupid and careless. Two things Severus had always reproached him for in his 'Potter-speeches'.

He wasn't his father. He wasn't as clean and brilliant as Quietus had been. He had much more hatred and dislikes, and he had even become addicted to that bloody potion, which, as Andrus had explained him, helped him to block Veritaserum, but the price he had to pay for this protection was too high. His temper was becoming more and more wild, once, during a questioning session he had badmouthed Bamberg so rudely that he had received a hard punishment: he had been kept under Tormenta for more than twenty minutes.

And his strength began to leave him, although he finally managed to eat and drink small amounts without throwing up, but it was apparently not enough. But he couldn't die there. His life was much too important to be wasted here. He had to face his fate to stop all these killings, to save his friends and even those people he had never seen in his life, who were the targets of Voldemort.

He couldn't die here.

He had been devastated, when he had heard about professor Noir's case (from Andrus, again), and couldn't help but feel guilty even in her case. He should have been faster in his fight against the Greatest Bastard. It was his responsibility to kill him anyway, the stupid prophecy had appointed him this task, so why had he hesitated for so long? His life was meaningless anyway. Severus, his old Severus had disappeared into nothingness, this new-old one did things for him only because of a stupid, old family spell and for the protection of the family's name – but in this point Harry had to agree with him. Snape had been his father's name as well, and he had merited bearing an impeccable name. Well, Andrus had many times hinted to him things about Severus's care, but Harry couldn't believe it any more. As much as he didn't need the Potions Master's rudeness, he didn't want his pity either. He had enough things to bear without his pity anyway.

As the days went by, he sometimes succeeded in catching some sleep. Not too much: minutes and short periods only, but they had been sleep nevertheless, and he dreamt about Severus many times, their happy days in hell. Was it the cell's atmosphere? The abuse? The darkness? Andrus's more and more familiar presence every other day? He didn't know, but he welcomed these dreams, the signs of affection, love and acceptance in his short and dark life. He had had his wonderful times. He had known love and acceptance, and there were many people in the world, who would never experience any of them. He could consider himself lucky.

"Mr Snape!" the jailer's voice jerked him out of his thoughts. "Stand up and step to the centre!"

Another questioning in the middle of the night? It was quite strange, but Harry obeyed. Resistance was absolutely pointless under the circumstances. The two usual Aurors entered the cell and grabbed his from two sides. They seemed extremely angry, more than usual, so Harry braced himself for another long and painful session, but his companions didn't accompany him toward the familiar corridors: they were heading for the exit. It was just too sudden.

"Am I being released?" he asked one of the Aurors.

He pushed him rudely.

"Don't ask questions!" he barked and tossed him into the room, which was familiar to Harry: this had been the room where he had been deprived of his personal objects, like his money (he had been planning to go to Hogsmeade with Hermione the next day) and his father's wand (his wand had been under a modified Timing Charm when he had been arrested, and by now, it was probably in Harry's room in the nightstand).

"Sign here!" somebody flipped a sheet of parchment to him and Harry signed it obediently. He would do anything just to get free again. The officer put his belongings on the desk, and Harry hurriedly flung his robes on. They were clean, and he was stinking after more than ten days in a filthy cell, but he didn't mind. He cast a few glamouries on his face and neck so that his infamous scar on his forehead and Avery's handiwork faded into a virtual nothingness and without looking back he rushed to the entrance door and stepped out. Another Auror joined him and ushered him out of the building. It seemed a lifetime when he finally reached the outer gates.

And the next moment Harry was standing in an absolutely unfamiliar London street, there was dark and his robes were too thin and there was nobody waiting for him. But he didn't mind: he was free again! The next moment his wand was in his hand, and he waved it excitedly. After a short trip he would be in Hogsmeade, and then... oh, yes, Harry didn't intend to run back to Hogwarts. He didn't want his friends' questions, Severus's pity, his teachers' worry or whatever... He wanted a place to think, not a solitary place, but somewhere more crowded, with people and warmness... but not the Three Broomsticks. That place reminded him too much of Ron's betrayal.

He didn't have to wait too long for the bus, and most fortunately, Stan Shunpike didn't recognise Harry Snape or Potter in the slightly stinking, greasy-haired stranger, who paid a way to Hogsmeade and went to bed abruptly.

It was about two at night, when they arrived, and when Harry got off the bus, he felt almost lost in the deep silence. But he didn't hesitate too long: he headed for the Hog's Head determinedly.

The small, dirty inn was still open and full and nobody was surprised when Harry entered (with his hood on) and ordered a firewhisky. To tell the truth he wanted to order butterbeer, but after a quick glance around he could see that nobody drank beer, and he didn't want to draw too much attention, so he decided to have a whisky instead.

The drink was strong and almost choked him, but after the first draughts he could feel the power returning to his tormented body, and a large part of his guilt and sorrow was lifted from his shoulders, so he asked for another.

He didn't know when it became too much, he couldn't feel the transition from sobriety to drunkenness, but at a certain point he could tell clearly that he was more drunk than even before in his life.

But the whisky was so slippery and it warmed his frozen heart and soul...

He was so drunk that he wasn't at all surprised when Hermione suddenly appeared out of nothingness and dragged him away. The fresh air on the street woke him a little bit, but he couldn't walk properly enough to reach the castle before dawn, and after a while he realised that a stretcher lay beneath him, and he was levitated after Hermione in the silent, cold February night.

Harry didn't remember how they got into the castle, and how Hermione put him in bed, everything was so dream-like, so light and uncertain... And he grabbed the girl's arm and begged her not to leave, to remain with him, he pulled her down to the bed not bothering about her complaints and later her trembling voice as she pleaded him to let her go, not even noticing the soft sobs, which shook her body, the shut eyes, the clenched teeth, the look of betrayal on the familiar face, the daze was too strong and pleasant and Harry never wanted to wake up...

...

...

The morning was nasty, nastier than the previous night had been good, was Harry's first thought as he tried to climb out of the bed. His head was aching; his stomach was feeling like a trash bin, his muscles were sore. Harry had never had a hangover before, but he immediately recognised the symptoms.

As fast as he could, he went to the bathroom and stood under the shower. The hot water cleaned him and warmed him, and later the cold water woke him and drove away the soreness and the remainders of his mind's fog and after half an hour he felt normal again – as normal as anybody could be after more than ten days in the Ministry's prison.

But when he stepped back to his room and looked at the bed, the pictures of the previous night assaulted him with such a force that he staggered against the wall.

Hermione...

Hermione and him...

Hermione's pleading...

Hermione's tears...

Hermione's shut eyes...

The betrayal...

What had he done?

His blood froze. What had he done? And why? Had it been the whisky? But why had he gone to the inn? Why hadn't he returned to Hogwarts as fast as he could? What about his firm decision not to waste his life? It had been another irresponsible and stupid act. And after that the thing he had done to Hermione... That was unforgivable.

Still shaking with shock, he stepped out of his room. The common room was almost full: it was a Saturday morning and almost everybody had already returned from the breakfast.

"Harry!" Ron shouted as he spotted him. "You're here!"

Everybody jumped on their feet and in a moment Harry was surrounded by joyful and relieved faces.

But Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is Hermione?" he asked Ron ignoring everybody else. "Is she here?"

"No," Ron cried trying to outbellow the crowd. "She went to the Headmistress to report about you..."

"I have to go!" Harry yelled suddenly impatiently and fought his way to the portrait hole. "I have to find her!" and with this, he jumped out of the room.

But he didn't have too far to go. As he went round the corner, he bumped into her.

She looked awful.

"Hermione..." he began, but the girl's glare and the disgust on her face silenced him.

"I didn't say anything to the Headmistress," she said, her voice was cold and refusing. "I told her I found you in Hogsmeade. She deducted one hundred points from Gryffindor for being outside Hogwarts in the night. Let it be enough."

"Look, Hermione, what I did..."

The next moment he was pressed against the wall and she hissed into his ear so that just he could hear, "I don't care. I'm not interested in your pitiful excuses of being drunk or deprived of Dreamless Sleep Potion. Whatever the case was, what you did, disgusted me enough not to want to spend any more time in your companionship. So, leave me alone. And if you ever dare to mention what happened, I promise I will hex you. Git. I hate you," and she was gone.

Harry didn't know for how long he was standing there staring into nothingness. Hermione was right. It was his fault, it had begun with his foolishness in letting himself become addicted to a potion, and it had destroyed everything. Severus had warned him many times. If he hadn't taken... but it wasn't important any more. The damage was done. Irreversibly.

Suddenly, a familiar voice called to him.

"Harry?"

It was Severus.

"You were right," Harry blurted out. "You were right. I'm nothing more than a stupid, irresponsible idiot..."

"If you are think of the potion's addiction, it's not too late."

Harry lifted his eyes and looked into the man's.

"It's indeed too late. I screwed up everything."

"I want to help you if you want me..." Severus's voice sounded tentative.

Harry lowered his head in shame. In Severus's eyes, in his expression, he couldn't see pity. Or coldness. In those black orbs shone something else, which reminded Harry of _his _Severus, and in that moment he felt his heart aching and clenching, and he felt unworthy of that care and acceptance. He didn't deserve it. Not any more.

"I can't be helped," he said and lifted his head again. "I'm sorry."

Sadness crossed the man's face, but he nodded.

"See you in defence class then," Severus said hoarsely and in the next moment he was nowhere seen.

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Next: as soon as Barbara sends me back.

The unbetaed version of chapter 16 can be found in my Yahoo!Group (web address is in my library here, on fanfiction.net)!

And a short calendar to the events:

January

1. Dumbledore's death

13. Noir's arrest

14. Harry returns to his studies

15. Skeeter's article, the new teachers

17. Patil resigns

23. Harry's article defending Noir

27. Harry's arrest

29. The 1st questioning

31. Andrus's first visit in the prison

February

10. Harry's release from the Ministry


	16. The fight must go on

Betaed by Barbara.

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Chapter 16 – The fight must go on

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Harry didn't want to live any more, but this time his wish was stronger than ever before. He agreed with Hermione. He was a disgusting git, nothing less. He had no excuse. He didn't deserve to live. Those words were echoing in him wherever he went, whatever he did. He had no excuses, he would have no forgiveness.

Still under the effects of the previous conversations he couldn't simply move away from the spot where Severus had left him: in an empty corridor, leaning against the wall.

Nothing was the same, Harry's chest tightened. Dumbledore was gone. Remus also. And he... coldness clenched his throat. Slowly, he began to understand the difference between his responsibility in Cedric and Fred's death and his responsibility in the previous night's event. This last was entirely, completely, absolutely his fault. He had no excuses. Everything felt so different. For the first time in his life he felt lost. It was a feeling worse than being kissed by a dementor would be like. He had betrayed somebody, who had trusted him, and loved him, who was always there if he needed somebody to lean on.

What happened? And why? Why had he attacked her?

For not the first time that day he tried to somehow reconstruct the puzzle of those hours, to understand, to see... But it was so hard, and everything seemed too misty and fast moving, and there was nothing, just short images.

He knew only one thing: the previous night he had wanted somebody to be there, to hold him, he had been scared of the night waiting for him, the sleeplessness and the short, nightmare-filled naps, but he hadn't wanted to force the girl to remain!

And now, she didn't want to talk to him, and he could understand her precisely.

Even more, he could finally understand Severus. He remembered their last Christmas together, Severus's painful tale about becoming a Death Eater and his harsh words, when Harry had asked him to call him 'father'. '_I don't deserve...!_' How many times had the man repeated it?

'_I don't deserve to live..._' '_I don't deserve to be your father..._' '_I don't deserve to be loved..._' and so on, without an end. Harry had always thought that he had understood Severus. But only now, he could see that understanding had a lot of different levels.

He didn't deserve to live either. He wasn't any better than the people he despised: Malfoy and his Death Eater cronies, or those men, who had tortured him last summer. And on top of it all, there was the irreversibility of everything.

What had happened?

It would have been much easier if he could at least remember exactly what happened. Hermione's behaviour had suggested something to him – the worst possible scenario, and his memories seemed to back up this horrible suspicion, and the thought of him doing that to Hermione suddenly attacked him with such a force that he threw up.

That was when Ares found him: kneeling over his vomit, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

"Quietus?" the boy tentatively stepped closer, and crouched down at his side. A soft hand touched his shoulder, and Harry felt somebody lifting him cautiously. "Come on. I'll take you to your room now."

Harry felt so weak that he couldn't protest, and the sobs suppressed his voice, so that only short syllables left his mouth.

"Leave... alone... deserve..."

But Ares just held him closer and after a short consideration of Harry's state he dragged his friend into an empty classroom.

"Filch won't be happy with you..." he said playfully thinking of the mess they left in the corridor. But seeing Harry's sorrow, he soon became serious. "What happened?"

Harry slipped down against the wall and pulled his knees against his chest.

"Leave me alone, please," he muttered through his dry throat. "I don't deserve your care."

"Nonsense," Ares murmured and sat next to Harry. "We are worried sick about you, you know."

Harry sensed that Ares would not leave, so he decided to change the topic.

"What happened that they released me in such a hurry?"

"A lot of things," Ares smiled. "First the newspapers said that you were a conspirator with professor Noir. The next day it came out that professor Snape again claimed again your guardianship, and many more people turned against you. It was very unfortunate timing considering his past... The Ministry wanted to arrest him as well, but then George went to the Ministry and gave evidence about professor Snape's attempt to save him and his twin in the attack, when Fred died, and the ex-Minister, Patil presented the professor's testimony he had made after you had escaped You-Know-Who's prison last summer. But, of course, all that news were published two or three days later or so... Then his cousin came and he tried to free you somehow – by the way this Andrus guy is much friendlier than your uncle – and he and George had the idea to use the newspapers against Diggory's party. Then, three days later the _Quibbler _published an interview with professor Snape about your common captivity in Nightmare Manor, his captivity in the Ministry and the Aurors' treatment and then, to everybody's surprise all hell broke loose..." Ares smiled and Harry couldn't suppress his curiosity.

"What happened?"

Ares laughed.

"Suddenly, a lot of people came forward with similar tales to professor Snape's and in three days the Ministry looked like a fortress under attack. Even the _Prophet _began to question their methods and everybody was concerned about your well-being. And somebody raised the idea that your imprisonment is just the Minister's personal revenge on you and – and this was the biggest surprise in the story – somebody proposed to question Malfoy about the topic. And Malfoy, obviously being furious at his one-time Death Eater friends, who didn't prevent him from becoming a Squib in Liberty, gave evidence against them. He told the court that Cedric was killed by Peter Pettigrew, and that you have always been You-Know-Who's first enemy instead of his ally and things like that. Seeing his friend's confession er... my father did the same." Ares lowered his head. Harry sighed and touched his arm.

"Is it still painful?"

Ares just nodded.

"This war has rendered too many of us, children, homeless."

Ares's words, again, reminded Harry of Hermione, and the slight relief he felt listening to Ares's tale disappeared. He, again, felt dizzy and nauseous. It hurt. It hurt too much to bear.

And the short tale didn't help either. Knowing how many people wanted him out, considered him worthy of being freed, were worrying about his well-being... That Severus reclaimed his guardianship, and that he talked to the press about their captivity... But Severus didn't remember their captivity! How could he talk about it then? Harry felt a sudden anger, but he soon repressed it. He had no right to be angry with his uncle. He had no right to be angry with anybody but himself.

"I'd like the whole thing to be over," he suddenly muttered.

Ares accompanied him back to the common room. Just after they parted Harry remembered that he still didn't know how Hermione had found him in Hogsmeade the previous night. But he didn't dare to ask the girl. He was afraid that Hermione would think he was trying to obviate responsibility for what he had done. No. He couldn't do much to reconcile with her, but giving her time seemed a good path to follow.

Because he didn't want to die without a proper apology. He didn't want to die knowing that Hermione hated him. Hermione... Every time he thought of the girl, he felt a distant pang in his chest, and pain, physical pain in the place his heart was.

Until this point he had though that heart's pain was a metaphor. Now, he knew better.

Later that day, McGonagall summoned him.

"Mr Snape I'm disappointed in you. Last night, when you were released from the Ministry and noticed that nobody was waiting for you, you should have contacted us instead of disappearing into thin air as you did. The Ministry informed us about your release almost two hours later, probably because they wanted to avoid attention. And you were nowhere to be found! Severus went to Diagon Alley, Arthur Weasley searched for you in the Ministry building, they even tried the Knight Bus, but by that time you disappeared without a trace! What did you think you were doing with Voldemort out there? If he had caught you, you could have died!"

'_And it would have been much better,_' Harry added to himself. But he didn't utter a word.

"Miss Granger told me that she found you in Hogsmeade and you came back together. But that was around 4 a.m.! What did you do in the meantime?"

Harry sighed. He longed to say everything, but he couldn't. Hermione prevented to him.

"She found me in the Hog's Head. I was drunk. It took a lot of time for her to bring me back to school," he said instead, and it was at least true.

"What?" the Headmistress's head snapped up.

"It was not her fault, Headmistress. She just wanted to help..."

"Were you drunk?" she interrupted him.

"Yes," Harry lowered his head in shame.

The Headmistress just sat speechless. Harry didn't dare to move.

"What did they do to you?" she asked finally.

"Nothing... they just questioned me," Harry shrugged.

"Veritaserum?" came the next question. Harry nodded. "Tormenta?" After a short hesitation Harry nodded again and hastily added-

"It was only once, and it was partially my fault. I badmouthed them."

"You have to visit Madam Pomfrey."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry answered meekly, but he was quite uncomfortable with the new direction of their conversation. He shifted in embarrassment. But then suddenly, professor Flitwick's head appeared in the fireplace.

"Minerva, please, come through for a moment. It's urgent," he said and in the next moment disappeared from Harry's sight.

"Mr Snape, I will return soon. Please, wait for me here."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said again and leaned back. He had some time to think of some excuses for the Headmistress and the nurse. He didn't want them to know about his addiction. Harry suspected that Andrus knew already, and perhaps he had shared this piece of information with his cousin, but Severus wouldn't harass him about it, that much was clear. He wanted to fix the addiction problem by himself. It was his fault, he had to correct it – as much as it could be corrected.

But the ideas didn't want to come and neither did the Headmistress, so Harry's glance began to sweep around the familiar office.

Everything seemed the same, although Fawkes was nowhere to seen. But the small, silvery objects were there, clinking softly as they moved – and yes, the desk was much more tidy than in the days of Dumbledore. Harry smiled longingly, bitterly. If Dumbledore hadn't died, everything would have been different. He wouldn't have become addicted (because the final push towards addiction had been those days spent comatose under Madam Pomfrey's care, although she hadn't known about Harry's previous sleeping methods, so she wasn't to be blamed for it), Patil would have remained Minister and he wouldn't have had charged filed against him (and professor Noir), he wouldn't have spent eleven days in the Ministry's prison and finally the night before would never have happened.

Harry shuddered as the pain, like a dagger, bored into his heart. It was a war, indeed, a very real war with real victims, but Harry could not count himself as a victim anymore. He hadn't been a victim. He was weak, he had let weakness penetrate his life, he hadn't fought against it. It had been his fault. His hands trembled and he unsuccessfully tried to swallow. The bitter saliva filled his mouth like acid.

"Harry?" a very familiar voice called him. Harry froze. It was impossible. He... he was dead, wasn't he? How could he call him then? But the voice came again. "Harry?"

Slowly, not daring to believe his ears, he turned around.

Facing the desk, there was a new portrait on the wall.

Dumbledore.

Harry stood up, but he stumbled over the coffee table and fell to his knees.

"Headmaster?" he asked-choked-sobbed. "Headmaster..." he threw himself on the small table and pressed his burning forehead to the smooth surface.

"Come closer, Harry," the soft, distant voice called him, and Harry obeyed, staggering, the world whirling around him.

Harry felt extremely uncomfortable. He wanted to go to the old man and hug him as tightly as he could, but how could he hug a portrait? So he crossed his arms over his chest, as if he was hugging himself, and looked up the portrait. He could sense his tears running freely down his cheek and dripping to the floor.

The portrait was in tears.

Harry had never felt so undeserving in his life. Undeserving of sorrow, of pity, of compassion. But the question, which left his mouth was about another topic.

"Why did you let him kill you, sir? Why?" he didn't continue the question, it would have seemed selfish to ask 'why did you leave me alone', so he bit it back.

"There is a reason for everything, Harry, but sometimes, you are not allowed to know it. I let him, because my time had arrived. It was the point where I had to make a decision, and I decided to go. Later, you will understand."

Harry shook his head desperately.

"No," he choked out. "Your death destroyed everything..." he had to crouch down, because of the pain in his chest. "I destroyed everything..."

"Every one of us commits mistakes, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, calmingly. "Nobody is perfect. We both are human..."

"I AM NOT HUMAN!" Harry shrieked and the sobs began to shake him more forcefully. "I'm just a disgusting git, who... who forced one of his friends to... to..." he couldn't continue. He couldn't confess to Dumbledore what he had done. And what should he confess anyway? He couldn't remember the night, only pieces of it.

"Give her time," the old man said suddenly, but Harry was just shaking his head.

"It's not about time, Headmaster!" he hit his own thigh with his fist.

"What did you do, Harry?" the question sounded strange. Harry could have sworn the Headmaster knew the answer. But he was asking him nevertheless.

"I got drunk. Hermione collected me, although I don't know how she knew where I was..." his thoughts wandered.

"I told her," Dumbledore said simply.

Harry lifted his head in disbelief.

"You?"

"She came to ask me about you when you were arrested."

"You?" Harry repeated his previous question and he winced. He sounded quite stupid.

"After my death they hung my portraits everywhere in the country. I know a lot of things, which are going on lately – and not only in Hogwarts. And portraits are quite chatty when you find some time for them."

"You!" Harry repeated, but this time it sounded more an accusation. "They... I mean the portraits were the reason you knew everything that was going on in the school..."

"Not only in the school," Dumbledore chuckled slightly. "And that is the main reason that many wizards don't hang paintings in their personal quarters. At least not wizarding ones."

But by this time Harry's thoughts returned to Hermione.

"But how did Hermione know...?"

"She's a very intelligent girl, Harry. She found out quite quickly that there should be a portrait of me in the Ministry of Magic. And she was right, of course. I have a portrait in the Ministry, in the main hall. So I saw you leave yesterday. And since she was so worried about you she couldn't really sleep and spent her nights in the common room."

Harry slumped. Hermione was worried about him.

"That was the reason I could reach her when I saw you leave. Through Margaret."

"Margaret?" Harry furrowed his brows.

Dumbledore chuckled again.

"You call her 'Fat Lady', but Harry, you couldn't really think that is her name..."

"Oh..." Harry nodded. "I know that Severus doesn't have any portraits in his quarters. And neither is his door a portrait..."

"And the same goes for the other staff members as well. They don't like the idea of being spied on..."

Harry couldn't help but smile.

"Severus never told me..."

"We, teachers and parents, all need the portraits' information from time to time..."

Harry, again, forced himself to return to the painful topic of Hermione.

"So you told Hermione about me leaving the Ministry."

"Yes. She alerted professor McGonagall... and she waited. But after a while she became worried and decided to go after you. I couldn't stop her. But I couldn't reach my colleagues. They were outside, looking for you or in Minerva's portraitless quarters. So I told her that you were in the Hog's Head. She didn't go to Minerva though..."

Harry paled.

"She knew that I was drunk. And she decided not to reveal it to the professors... She wanted to protect me..." Harry suddenly pressed his palms to his ears. This conversation was more and more painful. Finding more and more proof of Hermione's worry and care, made Harry's desolation deeper and deeper. "I forced her to sleep with me, Headmaster," he whispered, his voice was broken.

"Give her time to tell you what happened, Harry."

"It's not about time," Harry protested. "It's about aggression."

"You wanted to force her?"

Harry shook his head.

"Never," as he realised what he said he quickly corrected himself. "At least I thought never..."

"What did you want to do to her, then?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry, again, felt that the old man had known the answer. It was a strange feeling, because he, Harry didn't know.

"I don't know..." he muttered. "I wanted somebody to hold me, some... affection... I wanted warmth... some proof that I was still living..."

He couldn't continue. The fire in the fireplace blazed up and McGonagall stepped out. Harry whirled around in embarrassment, bracing himself for the conversation he still had to have with the stern witch, but as a soft whisper, he could hear Dumbledore's voice again. '_Give her time, Harry..._'

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The next few days were like a nightmare. Everybody was walking on eggshells around him, except for Hermione, who absolutely ignored him and refused Harry's every attempt to talk. This caused an ugly, solid-like pain to grow in Harry's stomach, and his physical condition approached a very dangerous point again so that Fletcher, the new Transfiguration teacher and Harry's new Head of House refused to let him do transformation work, he had to do research in the library instead, like for last year's defence lessons. First, Harry was indignant, but after Fletcher had made him do some first year transfiguration and Harry almost collapsed in front of the whole class (everybody looked at him worriedly except for Hermione), he had had to agree with his teacher.

Charms was a much finer sort of magic. It required less physical, but much more mental capacity and Harry found it almost relaxing to play with the different kind of Timing charms. In reality, his future plans with Voldemort centred mostly on the Timing Charm, but not the Charm they were taught in classes, but a skilfully altered version of the charm: after a lot of fruitless tries Harry had managed to cross the Timing Charm with the Placing Charm, which meant that he could send any object to a definite date in the future in any place. But to Harry, it wasn't enough. He wanted something else, something completely different. He wanted his wand to appear in his right hand if he said the code word. Somehow, the placing part was the easier: his hand, wherever it was at a certain point in the future was a stable place enough for the feather (he didn't want to experiment with his wand) to reappear. But the code word system didn't want to work. He made thirteen feathers disappear this way, without any sign, and later he was musing that all these feathers could be in the same place Ron's Charms book had been in – somewhere nowhere.

The Herbology classes were the others he had to leave. He simply wasn't able to work in the gardens, and as spring grew nearer the classes began the hard work necessary in them.

The other hard class would have been the defence class, but Severus left Harry alone, from time to time giving him some extra work to elaborate on. Their relationship at this point seemed tentative and mostly neutral, although Harry couldn't not catch some of the man's worried glances. He was absolutely quizzical. Did Severus care? Or had the the whole fuss about his guardianship been nothing just another flash of that damned family spell? And what about his concern on Harry's first day back? Everything was so bloody difficult, and Harry's self-hatred about Hermione basically prevented him for looking for answers.

What if Severus was willing to take him back? He didn't deserve to be accepted. He didn't deserve to find care after what he had done, and the thought that Hermione had nobody in her life to lean on made him even more resolute not to seek out Severus's company. It was quite a twisted kind of self-punishment, but Harry thought it was only right.

He didn't deserve worry, care or love. He deserved to die, as soon as possible fulfilling that blasted prophecy, dying alongside that blasted reptile, Voldemort, who was, after all, the origin of every torment in Harry's life.

Arithmancy and History of Magic were still okay, but both were small classes, and having Hermione in them made Harry's minutes hell.

Ron was genuinely appalled when he saw the open hostility between Harry and Hermione. He made some tentative experiments to iron out their differences, but his relationship with Hermione was still too fragile.

"Girls," he said once, after one of his failed experiments, rolling his eyes. "They don't know what they want. Once, they are absolutely fond of you and you can't go anywhere without them, but in the next moment they hate you, for some bloody nothingness, and you have to court them for so long to regain their favour again..."

Harry couldn't answer, just swallowed hard and the waves of self-hatred churned his heart.

And he caught himself many times spying on Hermione, watching her from the corner of his eyes, admiring her calmness, her disciplined expression, her graceful movements and the thought that this girl had once been his best friend... This excellent person, this bright and kind and gentle girl, who had held him so many times, who had opened up to him, who had always been worried and there for him...

Hermione...

Padma had been almost thrilled with joy when she had seen them separated. But Harry's cold behaviour had soon scared her away and their strange relationship finally ended when a seventh year Hufflepuff asked her out.

Hermione's change towards Harry had another consequence. They were only in six people in the History classes, so when Hermione had stopped sitting next to him, Harry had been appalled to realise that Erica had taken her place.

But to Harry's utter surprise she hadn't tried to flirt or to cast ambiguous glances at him. She had behaved civilly. Absolutely civilly. And after a lesson, when Harry didn't manage to pack his books fast enough to disappear before Erica had the chance to talk to him, she caught him.

"I want to apologise, Harry," she said. "I was extremely stupid. An idiot. And I hope we can be civil in the future. Nothing else. Just civil."

Harry looked at her suspiciously.

"What are you playing at this time?"

Erica lowered her head.

"Nothing. Really. I just..."

"Did Zabini finally get rid of you?" Harry couldn't help but snap.

For a moment, Erica seemed to explode, but she struggled until she regained his composure enough to answer civilly.

"No," she said. "I got rid of him. I don't want to become a Death Eater. You-Know-Who has been chasing my family almost since my birth. He killed my grandparents. He tried to kill you so many times..."

"And what is this sudden change?" Harry barked at her sarcastically. "Did you read the newspapers? Did your little heart wrench when you saw what the bad guys did to me?"

The girl shook her head, slowly, and when she looked into Harry's eyes he could see shame in them.

"No..." she croaked hoarsely. "They... Zabini and Crabbe and Goyle read it out loud in the Slytherin Common room and they were laughing at you and belittling you and professor Snape and they were cheering that You-Know-Who would win and you all would die... And then, I understand what Millicent was trying to do for months. She wanted to quit. And I wanted to quit as well."

"I see," Harry whispered, then cracked a half-smile. "Do you know that we are related?"

Enthusiasm lit the girl's face.

"Really?" her eyes were glittering in excitement.

"Not really," Harry said mysteriously. "Just legally."

"How do you mean?" she furrowed her brow in embarrassment.

"I am the adopted son of James Potter. His parents were Harold Winston Potter and Armena Helen Knight."

"Do you think that...?"

"Yes, I think. In the wizarding world everybody is related to everybody somehow. Just ask your father."

"It's not too close a relation," she smiled and winked. "My grandfather was the brother of the mother of the man who adopted you..."

"Well, it's quite long to say..."

Both smiled a little.

"I will ask Dad," she said finally and jerked her bag on her back. "But I have Ancient Runes now. See you later, Harry."

"See you later, Erica."

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Harry hated the long, sleepless nights, but his decision was firm: he would never have a draught of that dreadful potion again. It had caused enough trouble in his life. So he read and napped through the nights. Just like in the prison. But as the time went by it became easier and easier to bear the secondary deprivation symptoms like mood swings and depression. The harder part was the sleeplessness and the general weakness, caused mostly by the lack of sleep. The only time he had slept had been when Hermione had held him that night... But no, he wasn't allowed to remember it, it killed him, suffocated him and increased the number of the nightly demons, which had been attacking Harry every time he tried to sleep.

Since last December he had no visions, neither the Dreamless Sleep potion nor the short naps had given Voldemort enough time to attack his mind through their connection. Harry was extraordinary grateful for this small advantage: to deal with a furious and evil monster on top of his problems would have surely killed him.

Harry pulled the book closer and rubbed his burning eyes. He was so tired... He would have given everything he had for one full night's sleep. The book fell out of his grasp. Suddenly, the strength left his body. Exhaustion at long last seemed to overcome the stupid deprivation symptoms. Harry curled into a foetal position and hugged his pillow close to his chest. Then his room slowly faded from his consciousness.

Harry didn't know how many hours he managed to sleep, but he felt even more tired than before.

And he wasn't in his room anymore.

Another scary, cold, stone-made place with billowing black robes and sickeningly white masks... For a moment he froze. They had caught him! But soon he noticed that he had a vision. Again. He moaned in disappointment and tiredness.

"... my servant in Hogwarts will bring me the boy, the Ministry and its Aurors will do what I want them to do and the war will be finally over and I can rule over the wizarding world!" Loud yells and cries followed the dark monster's speech. It was so loud that Harry trembled in surprise. And when he lifted his eyes, his breathe hitched. He remembered the last time he had met the general assembly of Death Eaters. There had been hundreds of Voldemort's followers. But this time... The crowd was too big to say an exact number, but Harry's estimation was about one and a half thousand… or even more... And the Order was now ten or eleven people? And the Ministry Aurors were less than two hundred, and if Voldemort had been truthful some minutes ago, they wouldn't fight against him… But Diggory... Voldemort had killed his son! And his right-hand man, Mercury McGonagall – and her wife... '_My servants in Hogwarts..._' and Severus's old suspicions…

'_No_,' Harry whispered to himself. It couldn't be true, he didn't want it to be true!

Voldemort was preparing for the last, final attack.

And if he didn't do anything soon, nothing would remain of the wizarding world he had known and had grown to love...

"No!" he cried agonizingly.

And the crazy feast was just about to begin. Curses and curses again, and Voldemort gloatingly turned to the man standing at his right side.

"The boy will be yours again, for one last occasion, Ceres," the man nodded and Harry shocked recognised the man. It was Avery. Avery, with an apparently pregnant woman next to him, his arm was wrapped loosely around her shoulders.

"You will not be disappointed, my lord," he said.

For a moment, Harry thought that Avery's being missing during the late November visions might have been because of his... wife or whoever she was, but he was hit by another Cruciatus and soon lost consciousness.

Weakness had its advantages as well.

***************************************************************************

When he woke up in the morning, his first feeling was despair. Absolute, utter despair. He didn't know whom he could trust anymore. He knew he had to tell somebody about his vision, but he was helpless.

The most suspicious person, of course, was his ex-Head of House.

But the only one he knew precisely that wasn't a traitor was Severus.

It wasn't about liking and deserving any more. It was about losing or winning the war, so Harry put aside his self-hatred and every other grudge he had against his uncle and decided to talk to him.

To decide, apparently, was much simpler than to act. But he did it nevertheless. He put on a robe and headed to the dungeons.

When he stood in front of the oh-so-familiar door he felt suddenly scared beyond belief. The last time he had been here, the last time he had been in the dungeons had been when Severus had broken his Pensieve and chased him away. The sorrowful memories made him tremble. Then he lifted his hand and knocked.

In one minute the door opened up. 

Severus stood still and shaken at the door. His face went pale and Harry could see his hand tremble.

"Quietus?" he asked scared.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I have to talk to you," he said, tapping his feet and casting a quick glance around. Severus immediately stepped aside and let him in.

When the door closed behind him, Harry almost panicked. He felt trapped in this place, the place that once had been his home... But that was another topic, he didn't have time for such nonsense as his feelings. Hugging himself tightly he blurted out, "I had a vision tonight."

Severus nodded, then all of a sudden swirled around and swept out of the room. Harry was so surprised that he couldn't move. But before he could meditate about Severus's strange behaviour, the man was already back with a small vial in his hand.

"Come, sit down," he ushered Harry towards the sofa and put the vial on the coffee-table. "For the after-effects," he waved at the tiny bottle.

Harry nodded, but didn't take it. He didn't deserve anything, which could ease his physical pain. Severus looked sad.

"I didn't poison it," he muttered.

"I know," Harry said. "But I didn't come for a potion. I... I saw Voldemort again in my vision."

"But you can have it nevertheless," Severus insisted ignoring Harry's words about Voldemort.

"Let me tell you about this stupid vision, and I will go immediately," Harry's words were harsh and Severus winced. It made Harry guilty. The man just wanted to help. And he had no right to talk to him so arrogantly. He wasn't in a position to talk arrogantly to anybody anymore. "Sorry," he breathed. "I didn't intend to be so harsh..."

Severus shook his head.

"No... You have every right to be harsh."

Stalemate. Long silence. It was Severus, who broke the tableau: with a quick flick of his wand he ordered breakfast for two people.

"What was the vision about?" he asked as he put some jam on his toast. Harry couldn't move. "So?" Severus looked at him after a while.

"Vol- Voldemort is preparing for the final battle. He has gathered more than a thousand servants. He plans to kidnap me, again, and he said that the Ministry will be on his side..."

Severus paled and the toast slipped out of his hand.

"To kidnap you?"

Harry shrugged slightly.

"Like last year. Or I don't know. He has his servant in the school, as you have suspected for ages, and he wants this person to bring me to him."

Severus jumped to his feet.

"No! I won't let it happen!"

His sudden emotional outburst took Harry by surprise.

"But I want it. I want it to be over. And when I disappear you can know that the final battle is about to begin," he said almost pleadingly.

"But he wants to kill you!"

Harry laughed bitterly as he saw Severus pacing in front of the fireplace.

"Oh, I know that. He will kill me, but he will not survive me."

"Nonsense!" the man spat.

"I believe in the prophecy my father was given. Until today, everything has turned to be true. I am the one who has to defeat Voldemort. And there is no hope I will survive. And I don't want to survive either," the last sentence was just a whisper.

Anger contorted Severus's face.

"Nonsense!" he cried furiously. "Don't be daft! And what about the Ministry? What did Voldemort say? When do they plan to attack?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know. When I realised I was in the vision, Voldemort's speech was almost over. I caught only the last sentences, about the Ministry's corruption and me. If I don't stop him he will win!"

Severus stepped closer, and Harry frightened saw that he was furious.

"Now, Quietus. First, you will drink this potion. NOW!" He pushed the vial into Harry's hand. "Or I will resort to aggression," he hissed menacingly.

The new, unexpected mood swing of Severus's made Harry drink the potion before he could protest. The man smirked and nodded.

"That's it. And I want to see you tonight here. We have some things to discuss."

"You can't order me around!" Harry snapped.

"You are dependent on a bloody potion, Quietus!" the man yelled vividly. "I can see you drowning. If we don't figure out something you won't live to see Voldemort face-to-face as you wish!"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, and he closed it. Objection was meaningless. Severus was right. He needed some strength to endure, because to fulfil his plan he would have to be conscious, perfectly, absolutely to defeat the bastard. He looked into Severus's black eyes, which, again, radiated concern.

"I will be here."

***************************************************************************

The pending menace of the final attack made Harry work even harder on the modified Timing Charm. But as he stumbled from lesson to lesson and fought his nauseating guilt every time he saw Hermione, he was more than a little bewildered about the evening.

What would Severus do to him? What was he planning?

His bewilderment grew with every hour.

By the end of the day, it was suffocating. He couldn't eat due to his nervousness. He didn't even go to the Great Hall. His seat was too close to Hermione's. He lay down on his bed and tried to calm himself down. Severus didn't plan anything against him. Severus just wanted to help.

But he didn't deserve any help.

He hated himself. He hated the ugly, disgusting boy he had become. No, not only his appearance. He was wholly disgusting. He perhaps wasn't even worthy of dying for the wizarding world any more. Because he wasn't any better than Voldemort. He was evil. He was...

No! He would not cry! He wouldn't show his weakness in front of Severus! He didn't deserve compassion or care, and any sign of a tear could cause sympathy.

He made his face a stone-mask as Severus let him in later.

The panic came as Severus closed the door, again.

"You will sleep here," the man said resolutely.

He paled.

"No."

"And you will have dinner. With me." He pushed Harry onto the sofa and put a plate on his lap. "Qui- Harry you need to eat. And I want you to spend the night here, because you need to sleep as well. You are on the verge of collapsing. The final battle is coming. And wherever you will be when it arrives, you will need your strength."

Severus's argument was perfect, Harry couldn't find any excuse against it. But it seemed wrong. It seemed like Severus would care and he didn't deserve care.

So, he just shook his head.

"I can't do it," he whispered.

"Harry, please..."

"Why am I Harry all of a sudden?" he snapped as he heard his name for the second time in ages from Severus's lips.

"I want to apologise, Harry. For everything I did to you since summer. I was cruel, I didn't think..."

"Why," Harry's whisper interrupted him. "Why?" he cried out painfully.

"I don't know, Harry," the man's voice wasn't any louder than Harry's. "Many times I have strange feelings, I dream about me and somebody else in a dark, cold place, pain and fear, and after all these strange images there's always you – not an image of you, but feelings... worry, care..." his voice cracked. "I don't know why, but I care about you. And watching your struggles, your persistence... and your grades always makes me proud of you and... and..."

Harry's shoulders slumped.

"There's no need to be proud of me. I'm not the person you think I am, sir."

"No, Harry," Severus's eyes were sad. "You are still the person I got to know in the summer. Brave, kind, caring..."

"No," Harry winced. "I'm not. I'm not," he repeated and the pain was too much. "I AM NOT!" he yelled and buried his face into his hands and howled. "I want to end it, I want to go home... I want to die..."

Strong arms encircled him and held him tightly.

"You are home here, Harry. You are here, you don't have to die, please, don't die..."

"Mum..." Harry moaned the so foreign word. "Mum, I've failed... I don't deserve to be your son..."

The arms began to rock him, and Severus's palm rubbed his back calmingly.

"Shh, Harry..."

"Please, let me go..." Harry sobbed into the folds of Severus's robes. "I don't deserve your kindness..."

"What happened, Harry?" Severus's voice was so thin and worried...

"I'm a traitor... A disgusting git... I don't deserve to live..." suddenly, he wrapped his arm around Severus and blurted out. "Why can't I turn back time?"

There was no answer, just the hug becoming stronger around him.

And he was lifted.

"You are too thin," a voice murmured, but Harry couldn't care. His body was limp, powerless, but he was still whining.

"Why can't I just die? I don't want to go on, I'm afraid, I don't want to feel pain, but I deserve it, a traitor, nothing, just a disgusting traitor, but I'm so scared... He will torture me again, he will rip my body, he will let Avery at me again, I will die in pain, but I'm afraid. I'm not brave, I'm not kind, I'm not caring, I've betrayed my friend, I became a filthy drug-addict, I screwed up my life and I'm not allowed to die. I have to suffer, but I'm afraid, I don't want it but I deserve it, and Avery will cut my scars again, he will open them, he will play with me and I will be just a disgusting worm..." Harry's babbling seemed endless, like his tears.

He was dreading it. But he knew he had to face his doom, the punishment he deserved.

And it was so good to tell Severus, even if the man couldn't understand what he wanted to say precisely. It wasn't important. Somebody finally held him, rocked him, and his sobs slowly calmed down and his breathing became even.

***************************************************************************

Severus pulled the sleeping boy closer to him. He was frightened about the boy. Harry. His nephew. This boy.

But as he held him and felt the boy's heartbeat slow down, a sudden foreboding narrowed his throat.

He would lose him. Harry wanted to die, and Harry would die.

He felt as if the universe collapsed onto him.

***************************************************************************

The next chapters (all of them) are under Barbara's supervision. I plan to upload them this way:

chapter 17 – 26th of Nov., Wednesday

chapter 18 – 29th of Nov., Saturday

chapter 19 – 3rd of December, Wednesday

chapter 20 – 6th of December, Saturday

**Reviews are greatly appreciated. **

You can still guess who the traitor will be: there is a poll in my yahoo group about it. I will close it right before I upload chapter 17.

If ff.net will have problems, you can find these chapters in my yahoo group the said dates.

Enahma


	17. Where are you?

Betaed by Barbara

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Chapter 17 – Where are you?

***************************************************************************

Waking up was quite a strange experience.

First of all, he felt recovered. There wasn't any soreness in his body, there wasn't the usual fog lingering in his mind, his breathing was easy and painless and the blanket around him was warm and soft.

Harry didn't want to open his eyes. He was in heaven, at least he felt that way and so he stretched himself luxuriously. Then opened his eyes. He wasn't in his bed. He was in Severus's quarters, in his bedroom and in his bed – and in his bedclothes. Ugly, long, grey bedclothes. Harry moaned in mock annoyance even though Severus was nowhere in earshot.

For the first time in months he felt good. He felt at home.

At home... He sensed as the memories of the previous days tried to break into his mind, but he didn't let them. Instead, he made his way to the bathroom and took a long, refreshing shower. He used the fluffy towel, which was prepared for him – he was sure it was for him, it was on the top of his carefully folded clean clothes, and dried himself off. With a quick spell what Severus had taught him, he cut his hair short, and dried it as well. When he finally stepped out of the bathroom he looked almost like a different person. His face was smooth, his hair short and not greasy any more, and his movement was lighter. Severus's breath hitched in surprise as he entered the living room. Then the man smiled slightly.

"You look like your... father. I mean Quietus," he said softly.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know...?"

"Photos," Severus answered shortly and waved at the sofa. "Have some tea and toast. You are too thin."

Harry gulped.

"You told me the same yesterday," he whispered. Both fixed their eyes on their plates for a while and Harry reached for a slice of toast. He was not a little surprised when he heard his stomach grumbling in hunger. Severus, he could see, smiled.

Harry let himself enjoy the morning and still didn't let his bitter thoughts invade his mind. They ate in silence, but Severus suddenly opened his mouth, "Minerva agreed that you should move in with me."

The fork dropped out of Harry's grasp.

"What?" he looked up.

"We had a meeting yesterday afternoon. The teachers were all concerned about you. Madam Pomfrey wanted to keep you to the Infirmary for several weeks until you are in better shape. She told us that it was – and still is – a matter of urgency. After she examined you three weeks ago, when you returned from the Ministry, and you refused her help, she hoped that you could cope alone. But apparently you couldn't. She even warned us that you could end up in St Mungo's if we don't intervene in time. Then I offered to look after you until you were better."

"I don't..." Harry began annoyed, but Severus didn't let him finish the sentence.

"You have two choices. You will move in with me for some weeks and let me help you, or you will be moved into the Infirmary, and there, Poppy will not have mercy on you." The last part of the sentence was told in a playful manner, but it didn't lead Harry astray. Severus was completely serious.

Harry shut his eyes, and finally, let the uncomfortable thought enter his mind. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to accept Severus's offer of looking after him, but staying in the Infirmary would be really bad. His main problem was the sleeplessness and he was afraid that Madam Pomfrey would use the Dreamless Sleep Potion – just so he would be better, of course – and that would be a disaster. No more of that stupid concoction. He would have to die soon, he knew, Voldemort was preparing for the final battle, but he wanted to die as a decent man. Or at least in his right mind. Not as a drug-addicted weakling. Even if he wasn't any better than that.

On the other hand, Severus apparently would treat him with kindness. And he didn't deserve kindness. He didn't deserve acceptance. But how could he ask Severus to hate him again? Such a question would be utterly ridiculous. And he couldn't explain why he wanted to be shunned. To be left alone. Hermione had prohibited him for telling. And acting coldly around Severus would hurt the man and he didn't deserve to be hurt.

Harry sighed. The problem did not seem to have a good solution.

"All right," he said finally. "But I'm not a little boy to be coddled and pampered."

Severus smiled. This made him so similar to _his _Severus of those, old days that Harry's heart began to beat faster.

"Oh, we are adults now, aren't we?"

Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"I will be seventeen this summer." '_In theory,_' he added to himself.

"Indeed," Severus said and stood up. "Now, it's time to go to classes. And since your first class today will be defence with me, we can go together."

"I have my books in my room," Harry put his teacup on the coffee table. "I have to go to fetch them."

"No need," Severus pointed to his copy lying on his desk. "You can use mine. I hope I won't need it. And after the class you'll go and pack your things. Mundungus said you don't have to attend your Transfiguration classes until you are in better physical condition. Now come," he led Harry outside the door. "Press your index finger to the dot," he ordered. When Harry obeyed, he muttered an incantation. Harry gulped. He was allowed into Severus's – no, not Severus's, but their – quarters again. The man caught the expression, which crossed his face. "Welcome back, Harry," he put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. "And sorry again."

They looked at each other. To Harry's surprise their eyes were almost in the same level, he was less than two inches shorter than his uncle. He smiled sadly.

"It's all right."

As they walked towards the defence classroom, Severus opened a quiet dialogue.

"In the night, you had two visions, or nightmares, I don't know."

Harry looked at him quizzically.

"I don't remember."

"I woke you up. But you fell asleep soon after both times."

Harry stopped.

"So it means that you were awake the whole night."

Severus motioned him to move.

"Don't stop, I don't want to be late. And no, I didn't stay awake, I slept enough."

Harry groaned, but didn't answer. He changed topics instead.

"Why George?"

"Pardon me?" Severus seemed clueless. Harry smirked.

"Why did you choose George as your... er... Potions Instructor?"

Severus shrugged.

"It wasn't entirely my idea. After Armena's arrest Minerva wanted somebody trustworthy to teach her classes as long as she was in prison. But nobody was trustworthy enough to her, so she asked me to take over the defence classes. I told her I had a full timetable and I didn't have time and energy to teach both classes. Then Albus suggested asking George," he sighed as he said the Headmaster's name. "You know, he and his brother were brilliant with potions. And Albus said that the boy was drowning since his twin's death. And he was also trustworthy enough for Minerva. Arthur was happy when I contacted him."

Suddenly, an idea popped out of Harry's mind.

"Did you ask the Headmaster about the Secret Keeper?" he asked excitedly. "We have to ask him!"

They were now standing in front of the classroom's door, but Severus didn't open it. Instead, he turned to Harry and looked at him sadly.

"A magical portrait carries the essence of the person it depicts, but doesn't carry all their memories, just to a certain extent. And even those are some scarce memories the person had when the portrait was made."

"But..." Harry stuttered. "But I thought he was... he knew me! He loved me!"

Severus sighed and a very sad expression appeared on his face.

"The Headmaster loved you, Harry. You were like a son or grandson to him. And so, when the portrait was made last year, and his personal magical signature was put on it, it contained a lot of you: his feelings towards you, his care... But he doesn't remember you as the living man did."

"Then he is like you," Harry whispered and the last remainders of the morning's carefree mood disappeared.

"Like me," Severus agreed and opened the door.

***************************************************************************

Since Severus was firm that Harry should participate in every meal in the great hall and eat, Harry decided to sit at the Slytherin table, at his old place again, because facing Hermione would have spoiled his appetite. He felt still guilty every time he looked at her, and even when he thought of her, so he tried to avoid every situation, which could remind him of her. He ended his study sessions in the library, he went there just to pick the books he needed and fled to their quarters, which were comfortably empty until late, when Severus returned from his last lessons or detentions.

Their relationship wasn't the same than it had been before Severus's Obliviation; they weren't as close and as open, but it was better than it had been in August, and Harry many times felt guilty because of it. Hermione still had nobody to lean on... It weighed heavily on his soul. 

The potion dependence had its disgusting after-effects to bear with as well. He still had problems keeping the food in his stomach and he was often nauseous and sick. He suspected his guilt had something to do with it as well. But he tried to hide these small indispositions from Severus. He still had extreme mood swings but he tried to take severe control over them, albeit Severus's glances cast toward his direction told him that the man knew precisely what was going on with Harry. And last but not least there were the night problems: he couldn't hide the sleeplessness from Severus or the nightmares if he somehow managed to fall asleep.

To his relief, the Potions Master didn't give him sleeping potions, or any other potions to ease his condition. He sent Harry back to play Quidditch instead, which Harry had abandoned after the Christmas holidays. Harry was reluctant in the beginning, but Severus was determined, and the regular sport brought his appetite back and helped him with his sleeping problems giving him a respectable amount of exhaustion.

"I'm happy that professor Snape can help you," Ron told him once after a Quidditch practice as they left the changing room and were tottering tiredly towards the castle. Harry smiled slightly at Ron's cautious and polite way of mentioning Severus. One year ago it had been 'the greasy git' or simply 'Snape'. He couldn't help but blurt out cheerily.

"_Professor _Snape, eh?"

Ron blushed and lowered his head.

"Look, I... I wanted to tell you something. I... I think I wasn't entirely truthful towards you."

They both stopped and Ron looked into Harry's eyes.

"What happened?" Harry furrowed his brows. He didn't want another break-up with Ron.

"I have to confess you something, Ha- Quietus..."

"You can call me Harry. That's my name nevertheless. And you've already called me Harry before."

"I just wanted to show you that... that I didn't want to be friends with you just because you are Harry..."

"I know," Harry nodded. "I'm not that stupid."

Ron blushed.

"Of course not," he mumbled and took a deep breath. "Harry, when you had that terrible vision and your scars... I mean... when we broke into your room I... I looked into your Pensieve," he closed his eyes. "I wanted to tell you before, but I didn't want to lose your friendship..."

Harry just gaped.

"You – what?"

Ron gulped.

"I looked into your Pensieve. And I saw what happened to you and professor Snape... and me," he added the last word so softly that his voice was barely above a whisper. "I didn't want to spy on you. I just... I just wanted to understand you... I was scared when professor McGonagall and Hermione took you away, everything was bloody and I remembered when I... I cursed you in Hogsmeade, and I saw the Pensieve," by this time Ron was shaking. "Please, forgive me, I... I..." he couldn't continue.

Harry looked as Ron began to tremble, and his friend's torment touched him so deeply that he couldn't utter a word. But he wanted to console him, to calm him down, so he stepped close to him and hugged him tightly. A strange sound burst out of Ron, and after some moments Harry realised that his friend was crying.

"I'm not mad at you, Ron," he murmured moved. "I made that Pensieve for you. I wanted you to see, to understand..."

Ron was now thoroughly shaking.

"Harry, what I did is unforgivable. You could have died. And I didn't understand it for so long... I was an idiot, a bloody idiot, I was cruel and worse than You-Know-Who."

"It's okay now, Ron," Harry whispered. "It's over, everything is over, I'm not in Voldemort's prison any more, I survived your stupidity, we are friends again, aren't we?"

"Are we?" Ron muttered.

"Of course, you stupid git. We are friends," Harry released Ron from his embrace and smiled at him. "And I'm happy you looked at those memories."

"After I saw them I couldn't imagine why you had forgiven me. You are much better a person than I will ever be..."

Harry's smile saddened.

"Oh, don't think that, Ron. I'm not the bright saviour you think. Even I did unforgivable things," his voice weakened.

Ron shook his head.

"I don't think so. You always blame yourself for things you've never done. You should stop it."

"No!" Harry cried out impatiently. "Just because you don't know about these things it doesn't mean they don't exist!"

Ron was taken aback by Harry's outburst, but nodded.

"All right. You know it..." but he was still uncertain. Harry decided to let the topic drop and began to walk again. Ron followed him.

"You looked terrible after you were released from the Ministry. And after those weeks... Did your break-up with Hermione torture you that much?"

"Wha-what?" Harry's jaw fell. "I never dated Hermione!"

Ron stopped dead.

"You – didn't? But... but everybody thought you were dating! And the whole Gryffindor house is still mad at Hermione, because we thought she broke up with you just after you returned from the Ministry!"

Harry paled.

"No... we had some... er... quarrels and I... I was very cruel to her, and she said never to approach her again," he gulped audibly. "And she is right, Ron. What I... what I said to her is unforgivable, but... we didn't date. Why did you think that?"

Ron shrugged slightly.

"You were always so wrapped up in each other... I thought you loved her."

"I..." Harry opened his mouth, but he couldn't finish the sentence. He simply didn't know what to say.

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By the end of March Harry had perfected the Charm he wanted to cast on his wand. After ten successful tries with the feather he found in the owlery, he took his old wand and pointed the wand, his father's wand, the one he generally used, at it and uttered the words he had created:

"_Locodefy 'father'!_" and he felt his throat tighten in fright as the wand disappeared. He fervently hoped he hadn't sent his wand after Ron's book and the feathers he used to perfect the new charm. He reached his right hand out and muttered the codeword, "_father_," and suddenly, the wand was in his grasp.

A huge flood of relief washed over him. He did it. HE DID IT!

And now, with his knowledge about soul magic (based on the books in the Restricted Section), he was ready.

He was ready to face Voldemort and to get rid of him for good.

And he was ready to die.

And, perhaps, with his last action of killing the monster, he could find forgiveness for what he had done to Hermione.

Hermione... Harry shut his eyes tightly fighting the threatening tears. Hermione...

Suddenly, he grabbed his father's wand again, and pointed it at the other wand.

"_Locodefy 'Granger'!_" he whispered. The wand disappeared, but this time Harry didn't do anything for it to reappear. It would have to reappear only once, that would be enough.

He sighed and left for a Quidditch practice. They had defeated the Slytherin team last week once again with Harry's quickness, and Seamus became even harder on them, and Harry noticed that his classmate was more and more similar to Oliver.

After the Quidditch practice he had an appointment with Fletcher, who had agreed with Severus to take Harry back into his Transfiguration class again, but he wanted to test Harry's strength before any making decisions about it.

And tomorrow, he would have another appointment with professor Flitwick. Harry smiled. The professor had seemed quite secretive when he had asked Harry to join him, but he was sure their meeting would have to do something with the first day of April, and he wasn't against some good jokes before... Before that. Harry shook himself and concentrated hard on the Quidditch practice.

"I still don't know who can be the traitor," Severus told him later that night when both were lying on their beds. "I talked to Minerva, and we went through the teachers' names, but we are absolutely clueless. But she told me that she alerted his friends in the Ministry. And she doesn't think the Ministry is on Voldemort's side. Even with Merc... er Mr McGonagall on their side."

Harry was grateful for the semi-darkness of the room. At the mention of the Headmistress's name, a cold chill ran through Harry's body. Just beautiful. Severus's main ally in the situation was the most suspicious person. But he didn't want to argue – not again. They had had quite a lot of arguments about her role in the whole state of affairs, and Severus had always been adamant about her innocence.

"Don't judge anybody because their circumstances. Just because her ex-husband was responsible in your arrest and questioning, it doesn't mean that Minerva agrees him or even worse, is an ally of him in all this. I have known her for almost twenty-five years. She had been always against aggression, she had been always the archetype of Gryffindor braveness, loyalty, care. And she was always Albus's best friend. She could have betrayed Albus much sooner if she had wanted."

Harry had no arguments against all those things Severus had said, but it hadn't lessened his suspicions. So he tried to keep himself as far away from her as he could without arousing too much of Severus's attention.

"Oh, and I talked to Mundungus after your meeting," Severus suddenly continued. "He told me that you are in much better physical condition than you were, but he still thinks that continuing Transfiguration now would be too soon for you, and it would overload your still fragile health."

Harry groaned.

"So his answer is 'no'."

"Yes," Severus looked at him over his book. "And I agree with him. You gained some weight, but you are still underfed and the Quidditch practices are physically taxing enough.

Harry released a noncommittal moan, but didn't protest. It was really pointless: he had other, major things to worry about, like Voldemort or his own death. Why bother himself with Transfiguration?

Severus seemed surprised at Harry's calmness, but he didn't vocalise it.

Soon, both drifted to sleep.

***************************************************************************

The next morning found both of them exhausted. Harry had a cruel vision that night, but unlike the others, this one was blurry and mad, very mad, full of evil laughter and torture and blood, so much blood... Severus couldn't wake up him for a long time, he was wrapped up too deep in the vision, which lasted several hours.

"I want it to be over," Harry said in the morning, and Severus cast a worried glance at him.

Everybody in the school seemed to be of the opposite demeanour, the whole day was stuffed with jokes and pranks and April fools, but as time passed, an ugly foreboding began to form in Harry's stomach. Something was about to happen.

But he wanted one thing before... before that. He wanted to talk to Hermione. Probably, for the last time in his life. He wanted to apologise. Not because he wanted forgiveness or acceptance. He didn't deserve any. He just didn't want to die without telling her that he was sorry. And that he cared for her.

But Hermione slipped away from Harry's every attempt, and he suddenly realised that it was already dinnertime and he had that meeting with professor Flitwick.

Then, perhaps after.

He made his way to the tiny professor's office, but to his surprise the office was empty, when he opened the door: it was already ajar, when he arrived.

Harry, not knowing what to do, walked closer to the fireplace, when a fire was burning happily, the flames dancing and jumping towards the chimney.

Then the other door, in the back end of the office opened revealing the professor, who hurried across his office.

"Ah, Mr Snape!" he smiled heartedly. "You are here!"

Harry nodded. It was obvious.

The office's other door clinked as the professor closed it with a quick charm.

"So, I wanted you here, because I have a little surprise for the staff. And I wanted you to help me," he winked and smiled widely. Harry smiled back.

"How can I help you, professor?"

The small man waved at the chairs.

"Sit down. Tea? Coffee?"

Harry thought shortly.

"Tea, please."

As the tea set appeared on the small table in front of the fireplace, both grabbed the cup closest to them and sipped their drinks.

And then, the world suddenly blurred around Harry. And he, suddenly, knew that Severus was right.

The traitor wasn't McGonagall. It was professor Flitwick.

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What has been will be again,

what has been done will be done again;

there is nothing new under the sun.

_Ecclesiastes 1, 9._

Here he was, again. He didn't have to concentrate too much: he recognised THE cell immediately.

It was, of course, in a better shape than he had last seen it: the brown oak door was firmly embedded in the strong walls and there were no signs of debris anywhere. The torches were blinking tiredly unable to dismiss the darkness, and the big jar of water just stood bored next to the door.

Voldemort had done his best to renew the building and do finally what he had long planned: to kill Harry in his favourite place. In Nightmare Manor.

It seemed as if a century had passed since he had been here last time. Then, he had been a scared kid craving some human affection – now, he was a determined young man craving death. But before that, he had an important job: he had to defeat the man, who had caused every pain in his life, who had started his life so similarly to Harry...

Harry sat up, because the ice-cold stones bit his skin. He wore nothing else, just his boxers, and as he ran his glance along his body, he could see his scars all over himself. His glamouries had been taken off, and most probably he had been carefully and thoroughly searched. He sighed. They hadn't found his wand – because it wasn't on him, at least not in any way they could detect it. They didn't know that he hadn't come unprepared. He was ready and prepared.

He crept to the corner – _their _corner, again – and pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them. The cell was cold. Still.

He closed his eyes and tried to still himself. He wasn't entirely calm: the so needed conversation with Hermione hadn't taken place, and now, he would never be able to tell Hermione that... That what?

Sensing his end coming near, Harry let his thoughts flow freely. What would he tell the girl if she was here?

First, he would tell that he had never intended to hurt her. In no way. Not emotionally, nor physically. And yet, he managed to do it in both ways. He shuddered in shame. He had just wanted to be held, and not only to be held, but held by her like during the summer in Black Manor, where Hermione had always held him after his visions and nightmares. He had just wanted to snuggle, to hug her, to bury his face in her robes, to feel her, to sense her warmth, her heartbeat, her calm breathing as it tickled his hair... He had just wanted to touch her, to curl up against her chest, her arms around him, her muttering of soft nonsense into his ears, to soothe him that everything would be all right, that every nightmare would end eventually, that no war would last forever, that he had been not alone in the world... And he had wanted all this from Hermione. Not from Ron, Ares or Neville, his best friends, not from Severus, the man he loved more than almost everybody else – he had wanted it from Hermione, because... The answer was so obvious now! Why couldn't he realise it much sooner?

Bitterness bit his throat.

Ron had thought he loved Hermione. Everybody had thought they had been dating.

And Hermione... Hermione had been worrying about him during the summer, he had spent several nights awake with Harry, sometimes sleeping at his door out of her worry. And not only the summer. Before that. She had broken up with Ron, just because of him. And if Harry was sincere with himself, he had to realise that Hermione had broken up with Ares because of him, again.

And what had been his reaction when he first had caught Hermione and Ares together? What had been that cold, distant longing feeling in his chest, in his heart?

And his relief, when he had found Hermione sitting at the library desk in the Arabic section. He almost could see her, her smile as she had looked up at him, her invitation to join her, his eagerness to join her, and his heart began to ache – but this time it was longing, strong longing, which burned him, longing to see her again, to tell her, to confess to her after so much stupidity that he was not only sorry, but he was in love with her – and he had been in love in her for a while.

His body trembled, but not because of the coldness. He was an idiot, a king sized idiot, and he didn't even know why he had been so blind! As if he could tell her how he felt! Or he could send her a message that he loved her – although she possibly would be disgusted even more with him, Harry calmed himself down.

He loved Hermione, he had been love with her for a while and he would take his secret to the grave. Perhaps this was the best thing for everybody.

He closed his eyes and thought of her again. Her smile, her care for him, as her face had lit when she had seen him... Her best friend.

No, Harry now didn't want to think of how he had betrayed her. He wanted to die remembering her smiling face, her voice as she said 'Quiet,' and smiled, smiled, smiled...

He would never see her again.

Harry lifted his head as approaching voices filtered into the cell from the corridor. So, they had come for him. He stood up. He wouldn't resist. He would die with dignity, even if he couldn't live with it.

But as the door opened and he stepped forward a tall figure was suddenly propelled in.

Severus.

The door closed after him with a loud boom.

They were in the hell, again, together.

Harry collapsed on the ground and began to laugh hysterically.

***************************************************************************

Severus hated the first day of April and was absolutely fed up with the idiot pranks the majority of the students found enjoying. Idiots!

He marched into his office, and sighed in relief when he didn't see his assistant there. He wanted to be alone for a while, and after that he wanted to go to his quarters and not to do anything – possibly with Harry. He smiled to himself. '_You have changed, Severus,_' he thought. Yes, he had changed. At least his feelings had changed towards the boy.

Harry Potter. Harold Quietus Snape. It still sounded silly.

With a quick pull, he took off his heavy outer cloak and hung it on the door: his office wasn't as cold as the corridors. As he turned, his eyes caught something... unusual. Well, lately he found quite a lot unusual things in his office: the Weasley boy had always left something behind: a cloak, a book, a pile of essays or potions recipes. But he had told the boy quite often not to leave anything on _his _desk. And, most of all, not to touch anything.

But, apparently, the boy wasn't any better than the idiots he was teaching. How did he dare to leave his stupid copy of the _Daily Prophet _on his table? Severus hated that newspaper, and he read it only if it was essential.

Well, perhaps something had happened again, he thought, but this idea sent his body in cold sweat. The sentences, which began with 'something happened' tended to finish in the way: 'with Harry'.

He circled his desk so that he can read the headers, but he still didn't touch the newspaper. He had been a spy for too long. But then, he saw a picture in one of the corners, a picture of a brown-haired, apparently dead wizard. '_Nemus Flitwick and his family were found dead yesterday in their home of..._' it read. Severus furrowed his brows.

Nemus Flitwick? But that was months ago. He cast a look at the date just under the header. The 22nd of July, 1996. Last summer.

The summer, when everything had turned upside down. The summer, which had been the beginning of a lot of painful things... Harry's slow approach, then the attack on the Order's Headquarters and Fred Weasley's death, because Harry had given permission to Mr Nott to... Oh. But Mr Nott later had told him that he hadn't come to Black Manor directly. He had changed lines twice: in the Leaky Cauldron and in St Mungo's. And both places were quite crowded. And the fireplaces of the hospital were well-warded. He remembered he had been quite surprised that Voldemort's stupid servants had been able to follow the boy. But later... The attack on the Hogwarts Express... again the spy in the staff. And Dumbledore's death.

Oh.

Uh-oh.

How could he be so stupid? The spy in the staff – Dumbledore and he had always agreed that there had been a spy in the staff. But there hadn't been any spies in the Order. But since last summer it had been clear that they had a spy in the Order, a very trustworthy-like spy. Indeed. And this spy, later, had become the Secret Keeper. The spy had to be an old friend of Albus. Dumbledore possibly hadn't been as paranoid as Severus, but he wouldn't have chosen a new member of the Order as a Secret Keeper, unless... Unless if he had known that person for a long time.

And there was only one person, who fit all those circumstances. Filius Flitwick, who had joined the Order just after his nephew had died that summer.

Was it possible?

Severus shook his head and grabbed the newspaper to show it to Minerva. But by the time he felt the familiar tug in his navel, he knew that he had been stupid. Because only one person could have placed _this _special copy on his desk.

***************************************************************************

"Harry, Harry, calm down," Severus kneeled next to Harry and shook his shoulders. The next moment Harry launched himself at him. He was outright trembling.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered into Severus's ears with a shaking voice.

"Portkey," Severus whispered back, and Harry released a half-mad chuckle. 'And you?"

"Some drug-potion. But I didn't take it by my own will," he added quickly. 'Flitwick gave me a cup of tea. I drank it and lost consciousness."

"Oh, Harry..." the man muttered. His voice was as quivering as Harry's. "You are here... Oh my... you are here..." his voice choked. He half-released Harry from his hug. "You are almost naked."

"They stripped me. They didn't want another surprise," Harry said hurriedly.

"What about that other wand of yours?" the man's voice was hollow. He knew the answer.

Harry shook his head. Of course, Severus knew about it, he had told him about it in the summer. But he didn't want to tell Severus the truth. The man would insist that they should break free, but Harry didn't want it. He had a task to fulfil. He wanted the whole war to end. He couldn't save his skin. Not any more.

"They stripped me and cast me a lot of revealing charms," he snuggled back to the hug. "I always wear glamourie because of my scars..."

Severus this time released Harry completely and pulled off his sweater with some quick movements.

"Put it on. I don't want you to get cold."

For a moment, Harry looked at him in disbelief, then burst into more hysterical laughter.

"Severus, I won't have time to get cold. He will kill me tonight before I could get cold or have the flu!"

Severus swallowed hard and trembled.

"Then I want your last hours or minutes to be as pleasant as can be under the circumstances," he said and tugged the piece of cloth onto Harry's hand. "Put it on. Please."

Harry nodded and took the sweater. His hands were shaking so badly that if Severus hadn't helped him, he would have been unable to put on.

"Thanks."

This time, Severus's sweater fit him, and he remembered the first time Severus made him put on his sweater. It had been like a robe then.

"This was the cell we spent two weeks in," he said suddenly.

Severus's face twisted.

"I don't remember," he said hoarsely. "I want to remember, but I don't remember," his hand trembled as he reached out and grasped Harry's hand. "I will die without remembering what you really meant to me, Harry," panic toned his voice. "I will never remember you..."

Harry squeezed Severus's hand.

"It's not important any more, Severus."

"It is."

They collapsed to the ground, next to each other.

Just now, Harry realised that both were trembling.

"I want it to be over," Harry suddenly said and buried his hand in Severus's shoulder. "I'm frightened, Severus," he added, when Severus looked at him. "I'm afraid of the tortures. Voldemort promised Avery he would give me to him."

Suddenly, Severus's arms hugged him more strongly.

"I don't want to lose you, Harry."

"You have to watch the whole ordeal, you know. As a spy..."

"Harry, please..."

"You have to be strong, Severus. Don't beg them to leave me alone. They won't..."

"Harry, please..."

"Promise me, you will be there... you will accompany me..."

 "Harry..."

"Promise me, Severus.

They were embracing each other so strongly, that their knuckles turned white.

"I did something unforgivable, Severus," Harry suddenly said.

"No, Harry. This is not the time..."

"It is, Severus, please..." Harry's voice faltered. "I have to tell someone before I die."

Severus pressed his face to Harry's tousled hair.

"Then say it," he pressed a kiss on the top of Harry's head.

 "I raped Hermione," Harry whispered waiting for Severus's embrace to disappear. But the man's grip just strengthened around him, reassuring him. "I... I didn't want to do it to her. I just wanted some closeness, some warmth," by this time tears were running down Harry's cheeks. "I don't know what I did, why I did, but please, Severus..." he couldn't continue because of the sobs. Severus pressed another kiss on his hair. Harry, struggling to compose himself forced out, "If you survive, please, tell Hermione... tell Hermione that I loved her. That I will always love her. Tell her that... that I can never forgive myself for what I did to her, but I didn't want it. I never wanted to hurt her. I just... I just..."

"Shhh..." Severus began to rock him slowly-slowly, "I'm here, I hear you, I promise I will tell her..."

"Thank you..." Harry lifted his face and looked into Severus's eyes. "I will try to do everything I can to save you. Just don't leave me alone..." this time Severus's face was the old, familiar, loved face of the man Harry had learn to love as his father.

"I will be there, Harry."

"I know it will hurt you, but please, don't close your eyes..." his voice now was so hoarse that it was barely understandable.

"I won't," Severus looked at him. "I will be there till the end."

The tension suddenly left Harry's body and he slumped against Severus like a doll.

"Thanks, dad."

Something salty flowed into Harry's eyes burning them.

For a moment, he thought he was sweating.

But as the silent weeping shook Severus's body, and he felt something hot on the top of his head, he knew that they were Severus's tears that burned in his eyes, hot, salty tears, like phoenix tears, healing his mind, his soul.

He was ready.

***************************************************************************

Next: Friday. If Barbara doesn't send me the beated chapter back, perhaps later. Sorry, it's not my fault.

Can I have some reviews?

Oh, and it was SOOOO funny… that nobody found out who the spy was.

Perhaps, I should go and write crime stories. ?


	18. The meeting of the ways

Betaed by Barbara

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Chapter 18 – The Meeting of the Ways

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Harry was so quiet. Severus heard his even breathing and knew that he had fallen into his last, peaceful sleep. He hugged him closer and shut his eyes.

He was afraid. He was so scared that he could barely think coherently.

This was the end. They would die, perhaps even before than his colleagues would notice their absence.

He didn't see any way out this time.

And he didn't feel ready.

As their death approached, he suddenly desperately wanted to live, to live with Harry, to help Harry to reconcile with Hermione, to help Hermione through the shock Harry had caused her, to help them, with their fragile, youth lives to find a way out of this situation, but it was too late. He couldn't restrain his trembling and strong nausea churned his stomach.

Why should everything turn to desolation in his life? Why should he lose everybody he loved? It was he, who had committed unforgivable things. It was he, who deserved to die.

Not his mysterious brother.

Not Albus.

Not Remus Lupin.

And most of all, not Harry. Never Harry.

"I don't know why I love you, but I do," he mumbled biting back the waves of the attacking sickness. "I don't remember who we are, but I want another chance..."

Again and again, he tried to remember. He wanted those lost memories back more than ever before. He wanted to understand and reciprocate Harry's feelings, he wanted them to be a family, finally, without Voldemort's constant menace looming over them, without pain and fear. Without Obliviation, fights, anger, hatred. He wanted family. Love. Kids.

As once, long ago, Quietus had wished for him.

Quietus?

His breath sped up. 

Where had this thought come from? In vain, he tried to remember more. No more memories came. No more surprising thoughts.

He would die as a stranger to Harry, to himself.

No, not a stranger. Harry had called him 'dad'. Nobody called a stranger 'dad', did they?

"I love you, son," he tried the unfamiliar sentence. It sounded right, so he repeated, "I love you, son."

Harry's embrace tightened around him, but he didn't mind that he was overheard. This was not the time for shyness and secrets.

"Are you awake?" he asked softly.

"Yes," Harry breathed out. "They are coming."

Yes, even Severus heard the approaching footsteps. He released Harry and stood up.

"Let's show them how to die with dignity."

"Dignity 'til the end," Harry said and followed him. "You told me the same last time we were here," he stopped for a moment. "I think I have to thank God for giving me almost two years extra. No time for weeping. Not any more."

They looked at each other, and hugged once more.

They were standing still, next to each other when the door opened up.

Severus didn't recognise the Death Eaters. They wore their usual masks and the cell wasn't bright enough. But it wasn't important. It wouldn't change their fate anyway.

The corridor was empty and silent. The way was short: a staircase, another corridor and the Main Hall. The almost empty Main Hall. There were only twenty-some Death Eaters, the Inner Circle, nobody else.

Severus felt his knees buckling. Somebody grabbed his arm and steadied him.

"Not too keen on dying, aren't we, Severus?" Voldemort's voice was chilling.

Severus gulped and looked at Harry. Determination radiated from the young-old face. The two Death Eaters, who were accompanying Severus, led him to the wall and with some professional spells they bound him, his arms open wide as if he wanted to embrace someone. When he next looked up, Harry was already standing close to him, in the centre of a semi-circle of menacing figures.

"You will die now, young Snape. Like your father did," Voldemort's mouth curved into an ugly smirk. "Like many people, before you, did."

Harry didn't answer. He was just standing steadily, his face serious but missing any signs of fear. A picture occurred to Severus all of a sudden. A picture of another young man in deep blue robes... His heart jumped.

"Just one turn now," the monster said and sat down at his throne.

The first Death Eater lifted his wand.

It was Avery.

"_Crucio,_" he hissed with hatred, and Severus couldn't understand him. Why, how could he hate somebody he didn't even know?

Harry fell to the ground and bit his lip. The pain was lacerating him, but he remained silent. Severus felt as if he had been hit by the curse, but he didn't dare to tear his glance off of Harry. He had promised. He had promised.

The second one stepped a little bit forward.

Another picture occurred to Severus. Harry lifted his head and their eyes locked.

Black eyes and green eyes. And Severus suddenly saw black eyes looking at him, ready to die.

"Quietus?" he croaked hoarsely.

Another curse, another picture.

Severus was now trembling like a madman. The curses felt as if they all hit him. Not his body, but his mind. And under the strong mental blows the wall around his lost memories began to crumble.

"Quietus?" he choked out again.

Curse, Harry writhing, another picture. Quietus and he at home. Quietus and he at school.

Quietus under similar curses.

Quietus begging him with his eyes.

'_Curse me NOW!_'

Severus jerked as if somebody had hit him in the stomach.

'_NO!_' he wanted to cry, but no sound came out of his mouth, it just gaped like a fish in the air.

Nonononono! Quietus, Harry, no, please, no!

And his brother's lifeless body after the torture. He was so like the boy, like his son, like Harry... Or the contrary: Harry was like him, his father, Quietus...

"I failed," he breathed and tried to free himself. It was useless, the magic ropes held him tightly to the wall.

The Bone-Breaking curse. This time Harry couldn't not shriek. His voice painful and like begging to Severus's ears. '_Let me die!_' it said.

'_Don't die!_' he wanted to say, but his voice was still missing.

Then Harry was lying lifelessly. Severus gulped. He knew. Harry was too weak to be tortured. He was too weak to participate in a Transfiguration class. How could he keep on in a torture session? But after a potion and a muttered '_Ennervate!_' Harry was conscious again.

Severus was mortified. He knew that potion. He invented it. It wasn't even impossible that he had brewed it. Vigilae. He cringed in shame.

Vigilae... Another memory – a memory about himself this time. Malfoy – smashing his hands. Harry – putting his sweater on him. Poppy – shaking her head examining the tortured limbs.

And the turn was over.

Harry was pulled to his feet. Two Death Eaters were grabbing him one from each side.

Avery slowly, comfortably pulled off his cloak, then his mask.

Harry froze.

Severus froze.

And in an enormous wave, everything clicked in place. His memories were back.

***************************************************************************

Hermione couldn't do it anymore. She had to talk to Harry, she knew. She couldn't keep putting it off any longer. Her anger and shame had already faded away and she was ready. As ready as she could be in her life, at least. And she had noticed that Harry had desperately wanted to talk to her the whole day.

And now, that her head was clear and her emotions were under her control, she knew she had to do it.

It had taken her quite a lot of time, but she had calmed down enough to think normally again. Yes, it had taken almost a month, but she had managed to cool her pride down by the beginning of March – only to find Harry back with professor Snape and absolutely unwilling to talk to or to contact her. Harry had avoided her so totally that she hadn't been able to catch him in the library either. He had had meals at the Slytherin table, during their common lessons he had been paired with that Knight girl or Padma, or sometimes Ron, and if they had been in the same room alone for a chance, Harry had always turned his head away, his cheeks crimson red with anger or frustration – Hermione didn't know.

She was completely confused.

Well, it had been her fault. It had been she, who had attacked him after _that _night threatening him about ever mentioning the thing that had happened between them to anybody, hadn't it?

What could Harry think about her? Probably, he was disgusted with her. With her eagerness to go to bed with him, after some feeble excuses and pretences, and later her hysteria... She remembered Harry's confused face, and she could see the drunkenness and the tiredness on him...

It had been in that moment, when it had clicked to her that the whole thing, what had happened between them, hadn't been real. It had been just the alcohol and the after-effects of potion deprivation. Harry would have never slept with her in his right mind.

And in that moment she had hated Harry. She had hated him, because he had been weak enough to use her eagerness, like any other sex-starved boy of his age, he hadn't been any better than them! And later his stuttered excuses! She had been revolted and thoroughly disgusted with him.

After one month, she had begun to suspect that she had been wrong. Even after professor Snape had moved Harry into his quarters, Harry hadn't been let back to Transfiguration, which meant that he hadn't been strong enough to attend the lessons (after almost one month!). And Harry had been in prison (for almost two weeks), and he had been under tremendous stress for months, and he had been potion deprived – how could she wait for him to refuse something, which had been offered so eagerly?

And he had been so tender, as if he had really cared. He had seemed absolutely relaxed (had it been the alcohol?) and enthusiastic to snuggle, to caress, to hold and be held...

Hermione blushed as he remembered Harry's kindness. Who had guessed that he was such a gentle lover? She shook her head. In a few minutes, she would face him. He didn't need to see her... affection. It wouldn't help their situation anyway. Harry had probably found something about Voldemort and wanted her help with it. And she was ready to help. She would have done anything just be close to him again. Being friends with Harry was much better than nothing.

Friends... Hermione's heart jumped. She wasn't sure Harry would ever want to be friends with her again.

And if he knew that Hermione was longing for more... for much more... But no, he would never know. Harry had said many times, hadn't he? He would never date her.

Hermione shuddered in sadness and knocked on professor Snape's door. 

Nothing.

Strange. In this time of the day, they generally were home. She knocked again.

Nothing again.

Hermione sighed and turned to the Potions classrooms, but she met with darkness in them. With a final decision, she knocked on professor Snape's door. George opened the door.

"Oh, hi, Hermione," he smiled widely. "What can I help you?"

"Er..." she shifted. "I'm looking for Harry..."

George furrowed his brows questioningly.

"He isn't here. Try their quarters."

"I've already tried," she said. "Nobody's there."

"Strange," George shook his head. "Harry must be at home. Severus prohibited him from being out after nine. They had some ferocious quarrels about it," he winked at Hermione.

Hermione paled.

"George... what if Harry is there, but something happened to him, and he can't open the door?"

George bit his lips in thought.

"Let's ask the Headmistress," he ushered Hermione in and stalked to the fireplace. Hermione closed the door. George cast a handful of Floo powder on the flames.

"Headmistress McGonagall!" he called out.

After a short time, the stern woman's face appeared in the flames.

"What happened, Mr Weasley? But be quick, I had other things to worry about!"

George shrugged slightly.

"Miss Granger cannot find Harry, ma'am..."

The next moment, he fell backward as the Headmistress came through and stepped out of the fireplace, her serious face pale as chalk.

"Let's go," she said and circling George she marched out of the office. The two youngsters followed her surprised. The woman's way led to the quarters Hermione had been at just a few minutes ago.

"Open up!" she commanded sternly and the door flung open. Inside there was darkness. "_Incendio!_" was her second command. She stepped in as the torches blazed up, but the next moment she tottered back. Her face was grey. "Oh, my dear goodness..."

Hermione, feeling her blood turning ice peered in over her shoulders. The fireplace was almost facing her. The fireplace with the enchanted clock.

Harry, Severus – GB, said the hands.

GB as in the Greatest Bastard.

"No," she whispered. She was too late... she was as late as she had ever been in her life. Harry had wanted to talk to her all day. She had been delaying their talk. And now, she probably could never talk to him again.

"I should have known," the Headmistress suddenly regained her composure. She looked at George. "Call Mundungus. Tell him to come to my office immediately. I will call Filius..."

"No need. I'm here," the small professor's voice sounded from behind them. George nodded and went away.

"Miss Granger, fetch Madam Pomfrey. Hurry," the Headmistress turned to her. Hermione left running. "Filius, Mercury called me a few minutes ago. There are a lot of Death Eater attacks in various points of the country. He was asking for the Order's help..."

"Let's go to your or my quarters if we want to talk about Order business," Flitwick spoke up suddenly. "I don't trust those portraits..."

McGonagall cast a meditating glance on him.

"Perhaps you are right, Filius... My quarters then," she said and with a short flick she summoned a house elf. "Go to my office, Dobby and tell professor Fletcher and madam Pomfrey to come to my quarters."

"I is understand ma'am," Dobby answered quickly and disappeared with a small 'pop'.

"I hope we are in time," Flitwick sighed. McGonagall just nodded.

***************************************************************************

The moment seemed longer than a century, as the memories flooded Severus's mind.

"Oh, no, no, no," he groaned and trembled, "oh, no, Harry, not again..."

Avery smiled evilly and pulled out his razor. Even from this distance, Severus could see Harry pale in obvious dread. The boy, who had been so firm since the ordeal had begun, for the first time, seemed as if he was losing the war against his fear. His knees gave way and if the two Death Eaters hadn't grabbed him he would have collapsed to the floor.

"Quiet!" Severus called out aloud. "Quiet, look at me!"

Harry's head jerked toward him in surprise.

"Severus...?" he asked tentatively, and Severus knew precisely what he meant. Nobody called Harry Quiet except for Hermione and Severus – but Severus had called him this way only before his Obliviation.

"Yes, Quiet," he smiled at the boy reassuringly. "We are through the walls, again."

Harry's eyes widened, but this time not in fear, but in surprise and happiness.

"You... remember..."

He nodded.

"I will be here..."

Avery stepped closer and with two quick slashes peeled Severus's sweater off of Harry. But the boy didn't turn his head away from Severus.

"Dad..."

"I'm here, son," Severus refused to watch Avery. He looked into Harry's eyes instead. 'I'm here..."

Now, the two Death Eaters who held Harry stepped farther away from him so that Harry was stretched between them, almost crucified. But Harry too rejected looking at his tormentor. His eyes were locked on Severus's.

The razor suddenly ran down an old scar. Harry trembled and his gaze clouded with pain.

"It hurts..."

Somebody laughed, and one of the Death Eaters in the circle grabbed his wand tighter so that his hand shuddered. Severus's gaze flickered to him.

It was Draco.

Severus's face darkened with pain.

So, Harry was right. Draco, his cousin, his godson was one of their murderers. The boy he had seen growing up and becoming a clever young man finally had chosen this way. His father's way.

It shouldn't be so painful, Severus thought, but it was. Everybody he had once held dear was on their way to perishing.

But no, he had no time for sentimental thoughts. Harry needed him. Resolutely, he turned his eyes to Harry again.

Finding his gaze, Harry's tension lessened, his eyes radiated concern, love and acceptance. Acceptance of him, Severus Snape, and acceptance of everything, which was happening to him. Of torture, of death. Harry's eyes held peace.

"I love you, dad," he mouthed. A sharp slap hit his face, but he didn't turn his eyes from Severus.

"I love you too, son," he mouthed back.

Both smiled.

Another blow followed the slap and Harry shut his eyes.

Severus struggled not to cry. He had to be firm. For Harry. Everything for Harry.

"Keep up, son," he whispered. "I will be with you 'til the end..."

Harry cried out as the razor touched his skin again.

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Hermione didn't know what to do again that day. McGonagall had told her to leave, but she couldn't. Harry's life was at stake, she couldn't just go away pretending that nothing had happened.

Lucky for her, after the Headmistress had ordered her to leave, nobody cast a second glance in her direction again. She quickly slipped behind the Headmistress's outer cloak, which was hanging next to the door and with a spell closed the door.

"Harry and Severus are missing," McGonagall suddenly spoke up. "And Mercury had contacted me to ask for the Order's help."

Hermione cautiously peered out. It was strange. She had thought that everybody on the staff was member of the Order, but there were only five people: George, the Headmistress, Madam Pomfrey and two professors: Flitwick and Fletcher. Disturbing, foreboding thoughts attacked her mind. Harry and professor Snape had been kidnapped. That was clear. But the person who had kidnapped them had to be in the room. It had to be the same person that was the Order's Secret Keeper. And McGonagall, apparently, wasn't paying enough attention, she was so concerned. Hermione pulled out her wand and grabbed it tightly.

"I still didn't alarm the others," McGonagall went on. "I wanted to ask your opinion."

"Send them out," Flitwick said in the same time as Fletcher who said-

"Summon them here."

The Headmistress smiled nervously.

"This was my dilemma as well."

Flitwick jumped to his feet.

"The Aurors need help! We still have almost twenty people!"

Fletcher shook his head.

"Twenty people is not enough to help them in a large raid like this. But we need all the help we can gather to protect the children under our care."

"Voldemort can't break through the school's wards," Flitwick replied. "We are safe here."

McGonagall shook her head tiredly.

"Just as long as Harry and I are alive."

Hermione shook her head. It didn't make sense. Couldn't she see that she was spilling the most important information to the possible spy? But who could it be? Not her and not George, that was sure. But then, who? Her mind was racing.

Harry had once told her, the previous year, that he and Severus had suspected the spy had been a staff member. But that had been last year, and Fletcher hadn't been here then, so he was out as well. If anything, Hermione was firm that the Headmistress was trustworthy. Dumbledore simply couldn't make such a big mistake in choosing his successor... Hermione had to believe it. So, only two people remained: the nurse and the Charms professor.

But Madam Pomfrey had had too many occasions to kill Harry or to hand him over to anybody… and professor Flitwick liked Harry too much to betray him. She remembered, the tiny professor had always wanted Quietus to be sorted into Ravenclaw, he had been almost fighting for him...

She looked at her professor, who with a quick flick of his wand ordered a tea-set, and Hermione almost fell forward.

Professor Flitwick's wave wasn't the wave the professors generally used to order things from the kitchen. It reminded her more of a Timing Charm or something like that.

The Headmistress absentmindedly reached her hand for her tea...

"No!" Hermione jumped out. "_Expelliarmus!_"

The cup almost fell out of McGonagall's hand as Flitwick's wand flew over her head.

"Miss Granger! What are you doing..."

"Don't drink the tea!" she said and stepped closer, but this time both Fletcher's and Madam Pomfrey's wands were pointed at her. "It's not from the kitchen..." she added, a little bit more insecurely.

Fletcher reacted almost immediately.

"_Lego!_" he pointed at Flitwick.

"Mundungus!" McGonagall cried indignantly.

"The girl is right, Minerva! We were bloody idiots!" he jumped to his feet and leaned over Flitwick. "How long have you been working for Voldemort, traitor?" his voice was acid.

"I'm not a traitor, Mundungus," Flitwick answered calmly.

"Wait a minute," George suddenly said and turned to the Headmistress. "Can you order a cup of tea from the kitchen, ma'am?"

While the stern woman nodded and summoned another steaming cup, George searched his pockets and pulled out a small stripe.

"Checking paper?" Hermione asked curiously. George nodded.

"Severus ordered me to keep them with me always," he explained and added, "If the two cups of tea are not identical or almost identical, we have to apologise," he said and put the paper into the second cup. Some moments later, he pulled him out and put into the first one, which still was in McGonagall's hand. "But if they are indeed, then," he pulled out the paper and lifted to his eyes, "professor Flitwick has to answer some very, very difficult questions to some very," he lowered the stripe and continued deadly slowly, "very furious colleagues." He put the paper on the coffee table and pulled out his wand pointing at the Charms professor. "What did you do to them?"

Flitwick paled.

McGonagall set her cup back to the table and her hand trembled.

"Filius..." she whispered in a deadly tone. "Filius, you were that... Through all those years..." she joined the two men and drew her wand. "You killed Remus..." she stood up and almost shrieked, "you killed Albus!"

Silence fell across the room.

"We trusted you," the Headmistress's voice was thin and sorrowful. But Fletcher's hand stopped her. "Wait, Minerva. This is not the time to call him to account," he whirled to his ex-friend. "What was your plan? Talk!"

Flitwick suddenly smiled and shrugged.

"Well, it would have been easier with Minerva's death, but," he leaned back, "my master thinks the boy's death will be enough."

"Enough for what?" Fletcher pressed his wand into Flitwick's throat.

"To occupy Hogwarts, of course."

"Why Harry?" Hermione asked suddenly. Flitwick's smile widened.

"Why, Miss Granger? You seemed so cold toward him some hours ago!"

"Why Harry?" George repeated the question and Fletcher pressed his wand even harder.

"He is Dumbledore's successor, isn't he? Do you really think that Albus's death was for nothing?"

"DON'T call him that!" McGonagall shrieked, and George shook his head.

"Let's try another way, Headmistress," he stepped closer to Flitwick. "Professor, you know that it was your betrayal that killed my brother. It means that I have the right to avenge his death without any legal or magical consequences, because we were twins. I can do anything to you. Anything," he pulled out a small vial.

"Mr Weasley, no!" McGonagall said sternly.

"I have the right, professor," he answered.

Silence, again. And then, Flitwick shrugged.

"All right. You don't need your potions to threaten me, boy. I will tell you," he smiled again, "that the castle is surrounded. The other attacks are just a distraction. You are defenceless here. As soon as that Potter-Snape boy dies the attack will begin..."

"But I'm alive!" McGonagall said.

"You two are the cornerstones of the defences. If one of you dies..." he furrowed his brows, "although the original plan contained both of your deaths..."

"How do you know when Harry dies?" Hermione asked, her voice faltered.

"My master will portkey here. He will give the sign for the attack."

"And what would that sign be?"

"The Dark Mark over Hogwarts."

***************************************************************************

Notwithstanding the Vigilae potion, Harry was almost unconscious. Mist lingered in front of his eyes, fog clouded his mind. But he knew he had to keep up. He was so close!

He opened his eyes and saw that Severus was still there, looking directly at him, giving him the silent support he needed.

Harry cracked a weak smile. Even if he had to die, he didn't fail his promise. He got through, they got through Severus's walls. They were family again. Real family. Father and son.

From time to time Severus's eyes flickered to a Death Eater standing right of Harry. It was Malfoy, Harry had known almost in the first moment they had entered. The almost white hair was unmistakable. Harry understood Severus. The man was losing not only Harry, but his godson as well. Yes, he was losing Draco Malfoy even if the boy wasn't going to die that night. But Harry had no doubts who would receive the honour to kill the traitor in the end – even if Malfoy had to struggle against the family spell. Which wouldn't be too hard.

Because the family spell was an illusion.

It had occurred to Harry during the first round of tortures, when Severus uttered his father's, Quietus's name.

Quietus who had been betrayed by his own family. Who had been put to death, willingly, by his own _Noblestone _mother.

So, Draco Malfoy would have the power to do it for his Lord's pleasure.

But he would not do that, Harry smiled to himself. Because there would be no Lord to be pleasured.

He sighed and turned his head to Malfoy. The blonde boy seemed so tense... His grip was so strong on his wand, that his knuckles turned white. Why did Malfoy hate him so much?

Harry suddenly looked away from Malfoy. He really didn't need to sense hatred before dying. His eyes searched for Severus again.

It was at that moment that Avery finished his work.

Harry sighed in relief. There wasn't too much time left. His holders dropped him to the floor. He fell on Severus's sweater, which had been removed from him in the beginning. He slipped his right hand under the cloth. Things turned out better than he had thought.

"And this will really be the end. Severus, are you paying attention? Don't you find this situation too familiar?" '_Bastard!_' Harry thought. '_Leave him alone! Kill me and let it be over!_' 

Severus's face contorted with sadness.

"Granger," Harry whispered so quietly that nobody heard him. His breathing evened as he felt the smooth wand in his palm. This time, he knew, he wouldn't have to be afraid of causing a Priori Incantatem. The spell he planned to throw on Voldemort wasn't a defence spell or a counter-curse. It was something totally different.

"I'm going to kill you now," Voldemort raised his wand.

"I know," Harry said and looked at him deep in concentration. He couldn't rush, because if he muttered his spell too soon, Voldemort would stop his curse.

"Avada Ke..."

Harry opened his mouth to say his spell, but in that moment somebody jumped in front of him. Voldemort couldn't stop the spell.

"...davra," he said and in the next moment a heavy body fell on Harry. Somebody grabbed it in the next moment and threw him away in wrath. Harry lifted his head, his hand still grabbing his wand.

"Draco," he suddenly heard Severus's moan.

Avery stripped the mask from the dead Death Eater.

Harry stared at the familiar, tear-soaked young face.

Draco Malfoy was dead.

***************************************************************************

"Voldemort will portkey here?" George paled.

McGonagall shook her head.

"We have to be faster than him. We have to provoke the Death Eaters to attack before Harry or I is dead. Then the resistance will confuse them," she stepped at the fireplace and grabbed the Floo powder, "and the Ministry Aurors will have an easier job." She cast the glittering powder into the fire. "Ministry of Magic, Mercury McGonagall!"

A bodyless head popped on the top of the flames.

"Oh, hello, Minerva. I was waiting for your call..."

"No, Mercury. Hogwarts is surrounded. We are the primary target today. The attacks are diversions. We need your troops to attack the surrounding forces as soon as you see the Dark Mark appearing over the castle."

"Wha- are you mad, Minerva?"

"Voldemort is about to portkey here. We need your help. NOW!"

"Look, Minerva..."

"Mercury, did I ever lie to you? We need your help. Please. Our future is at stake here."

Hermione had never heard McGonagall sound so serious. Apparently, she wasn't the only one, because the head in the fire nodded slowly.

"But if it is a fake call..."

"... then I will resign and bear the consequences."

"All right then. I..."

"Wait!" Fletcher cried and turned to Flitwick again. "Where are Harry and Severus?"

"Don't think I will tell you everything!" he answered coldly.

A roar from the fireplace made Hermione jump back. The next moment Mercury McGonagall stood up next to them.

"Won't you?" he asked with a sadistic glee on his face. "Are you sure?"

Everybody stepped back and Flitwick trembled.

"Mercury!" McGonagall cried.

"He is just a Death Eater, Minerva! _Tormento!_"

"I will tell you!" Flitwick shrieked. "They are in Nightmare Manor!"

McGonagall lowered his wand.

"Much better," he nodded towards the Headmistress. "See you later, Minerva!"

As he disappeared in the flames, Hermione looked at her professor. McGonagall's face was sad and distant.

"Mercury, you are such a bastard..." she muttered and shook her head, but she regained her composure soon. "I think the Ministry Aurors will be here in less than twenty minutes. We have to act as fast as we can. We have to evacuate everybody to the dungeons. I want the sixth and seventh years to fall in at the top of the staircase in the Great Hall, but the other children have to go to the dungeons. Miss Granger, go to the Gryffindors, George, fetch the Ravenclaws, Poppy the Hufflepuffs and you, Mundungus go to the Slytherins. The emergency ports will appear in the common rooms in five minutes. They lead to the dungeons. Go! I will alert our colleagues. Meet in the Great Hall! I will be in the Astronomy Tower."

Hermione ran. She was frozen inside, but she ran. She couldn't save Harry, but she had to save the others.

She didn't know that tears were running down her cheeks.

***************************************************************************

"Another martyr to save your pitiful life, Mr Snape. Or should I call you Mr Potter?" Voldemort didn't wait for an answer. "Goyle, go for a dementor. This time I don't plan to lose my power just because another stupid child decided to play martyr for him."

Harry pulled his hand under his body and looked at Severus. The man's shocked glance was still on Draco Malfoy.

Harry sighed. This had been an absolutely unexpected turn of the events. It was a pity he couldn't use it this time. He had to finish this show once and for all, and sending Voldemort back into hiding wasn't a real solution.

He grabbed his wand and tried not to think of death. It wouldn't be too bad. Just a few minutes, and it would be over. It would be over and he could finally rest.

But as the dementor entered the Main Hall, Harry suddenly felt that it was much worse than being killed by the Killing Curse. And his attacking horrible memories didn't make his task of remaining conscious easier.

He saw as the circle opened around him and everybody quickly retreated from him as far as they could.

Severus's face turned into a slight green colour. Harry didn't know what the man was feeling: his fearful memories were enough.

_His mother's cries..._

_Severus as he Obliviated himself..._

_Ron's taunting voice..._

_Avery's sadistic laughter..._

_Voldemort's words..._

_Hermione's face contorted with disgust..._

No, he had to remain focused!

He opened his eyes, and suddenly, found Severus's glance.

"I'm here, son," he said through the attacking terrors. "You are not alone..."

***************************************************************************

"Voldemort has Harry," Hermione told Ron.

"Oh, no, not again..." his friend whispered to himself as they were standing next to each other with wands pointed ahead. "Where's professor Snape?"

Hermione shut her eyes.

"With him."

Ron put his left hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"He will free him, you will see!"

Hermione shook her head.

"He was kidnapped as well. He didn't go there to free Harry."

"But... but professor Flitwick..."

Hermione nodded.

"Does it... does it mean that Harry will die?" Ron asked after a long silence.

"I don't know. He has always survived. He will survive," she gulped, "I hope."

Suddenly, a forceful quake shattered the castle.

"Look!" somebody cried and pointed to the enchanted ceiling.

The Dark Mark was there, lingering over them as their impending doom.

"They are coming, Ron," Hermione's voice trembled, and Ron squeezed her shoulder encouragingly.

"We will fight them then. And we will win."

But nobody came. And after five minutes the Dark Mark dissipated into nothingness.

The stars were shining brightly over them.

***************************************************************************

Harry tore his eyes from Severus and closed them to concentrate.

The air around him was cold, so cold...

There was no happiness anymore. Just his task. His ultimate task. And he would not fail.

He felt the faceless fear leaning over him. It was close, so close...

He was lying on his back now, his hand with the wand over his head, under the sweater. He moved the wand so that its tip pointed at Voldemort and before those cold lips could touch him, he finally muttered-

"_Animam ligo,_" and his body suddenly went limp.

He did his work. He bound Voldemort's soul to his, and in the moment the dementor would kiss him, it wouldn't be only his soul leaving this world.

***************************************************************************

Severus was filled with dread as the dementor leaned over Harry.

The boy moved his hand over his head, but didn't do anything else.

Then a thin, blue line erupted from under the piece of robe lying under his head and hit Voldemort on his chest.

"Harry, Harry!" he cried out in fear.

Suddenly, Voldemort collapsed to the ground.

The dementor straightened up.

The world shattered around him.

And everything happened so fast...

Aurors appeared everywhere and the Death Eaters were unconscious before they could realise what was going on around them.

Somebody released Severus. The next moment he was kneeling at Harry's side. He saw him breathing.

"Harry?" he asked, hope hiding in his voice.

But Harry didn't open his eyes. When Severus lifted one of his eyelids, he saw the reason. Cold pain whipped through his body and an animal cry burst out of him. He took the wand from Harry's weakened grab and stood up. In four steps, he was standing next to Voldemort's still breathing corpse.

"Avada Kedavra," he said the words with all the hatred his soul carried against this creature. The creature, who had ruined his whole life and everybody's life he had held dear. He kicked the stilled corpse and turned around.

"What happened?" an Auror asked softly.

Severus just shook his head and sat next to Harry. He buried his face in the sweaty hair and wept unashamed. Wept in front of the Aurors, who came and went on tiptoes around them, wept for the boy, for their lost future, for his future alone in the darkness, again.

And this time there was no Dumbledore to hug him, to hold him, to comfort him.

All of a sudden he was more alone than ever before.

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Next: Wednesday. Lalalalalalalala… The end is near – thank God!

Reviews?


	19. Living in the light

Betaed by Barbara

Penultima chapter – thank God!

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Chapter 19 – Living in the light

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"Severus, as I've already told you there is no point in healing his body," Madam Pomfrey's voice was soft and soothing. "He doesn't live any longer. He just exists. Let him go."

Severus couldn't answer, he just shook his head 'no'. The nurse stepped up to him and crouched next to him, placing a hand on his back.

"Severus, you are just tormenting yourself."

"I don't care," came Severus's hollow answer. "I can't lose him again. I can't bury him again. No, Poppy. Once was enough. As long as he keeps breathing I can pretend he's here..."

Poppy sighed and nodded.

"At least go, have a shower and put on some clothes. I promise I won't do anything to Harry," she helped him to stand up. "And Minerva wants some words with you anyway..."

"Give him some healing potions, Poppy," Severus's face contorted into a sarcastic grin. "Even if he isn't alive, he kept his dignity till the end. Don't take it from him now. You know as well as I do, that he would hate it if anyone else saw his body this way..."

He waved at Harry and they both had to swallow. The extremely thin body was slashed so brutally that neither of them could see an unharmed part of him. His ribs still stood out prominently beneath his blood and filth-covered skin. Harry's face still showed traces of tears and sweat, and his black hair hung greasily.

"Heal him as much as you can. When I come back I will bath him and clothe him properly. Don't let anybody see him in this state."

"His friends are here..." the nurse muttered uncertainly.

"Not even them," Severus's voice was resolute. "Give him the dignity he deserves."

Just as he closed the Infirmary's door behind him, Severus was attacked by worried teenagers.

"What happened?" somebody asked. Severus turned toward the voice. It was Neville Longbottom.

Silence fell on the corridor as all the children – no, not children any more, Severus corrected himself – stared at him in fear.

"The war is over," he said quietly. "Harry defeated Voldemort."

There was no loud cheering or shouts of joy, just that anxious silence...

"Is he all right?" Ron Weasley.

Severus trembled, but didn't know if it was because of his tiredness or the coldness of the corridor: he was standing there in a simple, one-time white shirt (now it was speckled with blood, sweat and dirt) and black pants.

"Professor, put this on" a warm cloak fell on his shoulders. Ares Nott.

Severus closed his eyes and opened them again. The situation didn't want to change: the fearful faces were still there waiting for his answer.

"No," he breathed. "He is not all right."

He turned to leave, but he was too weak: his knees buckled and he tottered against the wall.

"Severus, I was looking for you," a new voice. Mundungus Fletcher's. The next moment the man was standing next to him, his arm under Severus's supporting him. The Transfiguration professor looked at the kids. "Go back to your dormitories now. Nobody can visit Harry tonight," he looked at Severus. "Cassia will be here as soon as she can. She has some very urgent patients... after those tortures of today... The hospital is full of mentally damaged muggles..."

Severus nodded, his throat tight. Harry wasn't an urgent case. Why would he be?

"Take me to my quarters, Mundungus," he moaned. "I want to have a quick shower."

"Minerva will be waiting for you in twenty minutes in her office. I will accompany you," they limped out of the Infirmary's corridor. "You don't seem well. Did they hurt you?"

Severus dragged a deep breath in before answering.

"No. They didn't hurt me. They hurt Harry, only Harry in front of my eyes, because I was the traitor and you know the traitor's fate..."

"Shh, Severus..."

"Harry was kissed," he blurted out suddenly. "He defeated Voldemort..." Severus didn't know any more if he was still speaking or not. The images of the previous terrible hours were just coming in an endless row. "It was worse than the last time... Much worse..."

Fletcher looked at him surprised.

"Do you remember?"

Severus released a short, bitter laugh.

"Oh, sure I do. All too well, indeed."

"How?" the man asked and moaned as he struggled to keep the more and more limp body of his colleague from collapsing on the ground like a rag doll.

"Strong emotional shock, I guess... Ah, we are here finally," after a soft press of his index finger on the white dot they were in. Fletcher dragged him to the bathroom door and looked at him.

"Can you bath alone, Severus?"

"Of course," he said and with a shrug he freed himself from Fletcher's hold – just to totter into the door and fell unceremoniously into the bathroom on his butt.

Neither of them could suppress a small laugh.

"That was... quite convincing," Fletcher muttered amusedly.

"It was my purpose," Severus smirked and stood up. "Go now. If I'm not out in ten minutes you can come in. After knocking, of course."

Fletcher rolled his eyes, but didn't protest.

When Severus reappeared ten minutes later, a small line of potion vials was waiting for him on the coffee table. Calming, refreshing and some other potions for after-effects.

"Why bother with potions? Cast an Ennervate, and that's that," he sneered, but reached for the refreshing one. He didn't need the others: he hadn't been hit by any curse, and Poppy's first thing to do after his arrival had been to overdose him with calming potion. Severus suspected his walking disabilities were consequences of his overdosed state.

"Let's go," he murmured then, and he walked to the door without help. "It seems I can manage alone," he sighed with relief.

They didn't say anything more until they arrived to the Headmistress's office. There wasn't only Minerva waiting for him: there was the whole Order: the Weasleys, the Knights, the Bones family, Cassia, the Healer, Patil, the ex-minister and Diggory the actual one, and even Mercury. But in spite of the fact that there were more than twenty people in the room, there was deep silence.

Somebody pushed a chair under him, and a second later a cup of hot tea was steaming in his hand.

Severus looked around. They had won, the war was over, and then again... they seemed as if they had been defeated.

"Severus regained his memories," Fletcher spoke up. Sudden gasps followed his announcement.

"The shock," Cassia said softly.

Silence again, this time even deeper. Cassia walked to Severus's chair and kneeled in front of him and took his hand into hers.

"Can you tell us what happened? The Aurors have already told us that they found you in the Manor, Harry was unconscious and you killed Voldemort..."

"No," Severus shook his head. "No, it wasn't me. Harry... Harry finished him off. He destroyed Voldemort's soul. I... I just killed the body."

"What happened?" Cassia asked again gently.

Severus shut his eyes.

"Last evening, when I returned to my office, there was a newspaper lying on my desk..." he suddenly jerked his head up. "Where is Flitwick?" he asked with sudden wrath.

"In prison, Snape," Mercury McGonagall's flat voice replied. "Care to continue?"

Severus released his breath.

"It was a Portkey. I found myself in Nightmare Manor and before I could do anything I was disarmed and cast into a cell. Harry was already there, naked except for his boxers. They didn't want another trick. We had approximately two hours to get prepared for whatever they wanted to do us there..." he shut his eyes again. When had they opened up, by the way? "They brought us to the Main Hall and I was bound to the wall while they were torturing Harry. Then Voldemort cast the Killing Curse at Harry, but Draco shielded him with his own body and died right there."

Surprised cries and gasps again.

"Draco Malfoy?" George asked.

"Yes, he," Severus whispered. "Stupid child... No Noblestone remains..." for some moments, Severus was lost in thought.

"What happened to Harry?" George's voice was edged with panic. The frightened question pulled Severus out of his short reverie. 

"Voldemort didn't dare risk another problem with the Killing Curse, so he ordered a dementor and had Harry kissed," the air froze in the room, but Severus went on, "but before dying Harry cast the soul binding spell on Voldemort, so in the moment his soul was ripped out of his body, the same happened with the bastard," he swallowed and lifted his head, his eyes narrowed. "Served him right."

"But..." Mrs Weasley choked out. "We were told that he is alive!"

"I saw him breathing when you Apparated here, Severus," the Headmistress explained quickly. "I thought... I didn't think..."

Severus stood up.

"I'm going back to him," he said tiredly. "And ask Poppy if you want further information. Or ask the Death Eaters you found there."

The corridor of the Infirmary was empty and dark, like the hospital wing itself. Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen, there was only Harry lying on a bed, breathing evenly, although small coughs shook his body from time to time. He wasn't as exposed as when Severus had left him an hour ago: a light blanket was wrapped and tucked around him.

Severus pulled it off of the thin body and carried Harry to the bathroom. Next to the bath, he could see clean pyjamas on a chair and a big towel. The bath was full of hot water. Severus stripped the ragged underwear and lowered Harry slowly, cautiously. He rested one arm around Harry's shoulder to support him with the half-embrace, and tucked Harry's head under his chin as he knelt next to the bath.

"I will take care of you Harry," he whispered. "I promised that I would always be there. I'm here now, son..." he knelt motionlessly until his legs went absolutely numb. Just then, he lifted Harry out of the bath and carried him back to his bed.

He lay next to him, hugging him tightly and closed his eyes.

"Everything is all right," he lied himself and pressed a soft kiss on the top of Harry's head. The warmth of a living body next to him, the even breathing and the quiet heartbeats lulled him into a deep slumber.

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By the end of the following day, Severus knew everything that had happened in the Wizarding world, while they had been in Nightmare Manor.

Slowly, Harry's last vision made sense.

The Ministry hadn't been on Voldemort's side: they had been only distracted, because it had been Hogwarts that Voldemort had wanted to have. Hogwarts, the most powerful place of the British Isles. Hogwarts, which had always been the last refuge of the Light Side.

Hogwarts, which couldn't be occupied, because its protecting wards were stronger than ever.

Hogwarts, which was protected by the sacrifice of the century's greatest wizard: Albus Dumbledore. Yes, Dumbledore hadn't sacrificed his life for Harry as Voldemort (and not only him) had suspected. He had died for the school he had loved and for the children he had cared about after all.

Severus learned that the wards around the school had been so firm that the united attack of more than five hundreds dark wizards hadn't even caused a small disturbance in them. On the contrary, the de-magicking spells had been repelled and quite a lot of the Death Eaters, who hadn't been quick enough to dodge the returning spells, remained suddenly magicless, less than two seconds after the first attack. It had been quite a joyful surprise to the Ministry Aurors, whose numbers suddenly had been enough to fight with success against the enemy's forces.

The Death Eaters couldn't even approach Hogwarts's grounds.

But Severus couldn't join the grateful staff. He wasn't grateful to Dumbledore. Albus should have given his life for Harry instead of the school, he thought darkly. Perhaps, then Harry could have survived...

He knew that his thoughts were childish and selfish.

But the morning he had woken up next to the alive-like Harry, and had realised that that had REALLY been the end, no Albus with corpse-tricks and merry twinkles – Severus suddenly had wanted to die. Once had been enough. He had already gone through this once before, he hadn't intended to do it a second time. Burial and grief – but this time the grief would be longer, because there would be no Harry to knock on his quarters' door saying 'I'm alive, Severus', quite the contrary, there wouldn't be anybody in the future to knock on his door...

He had lost so much in this war. He had lost his innocence, then his brother, later his parents, he had lost fifteen years of knowing Harry, then he had lost Harry – and found him again, and he had lost his memories and lost Harry with them, and he had lost his best friend, and now Harry, once and for all.

He was weeping when that blasted ex-animagus found him. To his surprise, Black didn't say a word, just hugged him, and they were crying together, a beautiful couple of idiots, kneeling next to a hospital bed, crying in each other's arms... But Severus didn't care enough to feel embarrassed, he accepted Black's comfort, he possibly would have accepted any offered comfort in his state. Only later, when Poppy dragged them into his office, Harry's closest friends were allowed into the Infirmary. Later Severus learned that they had been Nott, Weasley and Longbottom. He was more than surprised about Miss Granger's absence.

"The Ministry Identifier will be here at seven," the Headmistress told them some time later. Both men cringed. That would be the real end. The "merciful death" as the wizarding world called the spell what allowed to die to those people who had been given the Dementor's kiss. It was a small, softly-spoken spell, nothing extraordinary, and absolutely harmless to those people who had their souls: it helped to kill only the soulless. Like Crouch had been three years ago. Or like Harry now.

Severus smiled bitterly to himself. Perhaps he could try this spell on himself as well. Perhaps it would finish his life, his meaningless and empty life, which wasn't any better than Harry's: just a shell.

There was nothing remaining for him in life.

"I was there today when Minerva talked to Flitwick in the Ministry," Black suddenly said.

"Why were you there?" Severus cast a tiresome glance at him. Black blushed crimson.

"For Armena," he muttered. "Minerva told me that Armena would be released this morning. I went for her." He lifted his head and looked in Severus's eyes. "She is like me now anyway. A Squib. An absolutely useless, stupid Squib..."

Severus sighed.

"Come on, Sirius, don't be an idiot," he muttered so softly that only Black could hear his words. "You are not useless. You can help Armena, and Harry told me that you are a wonderful father to that Anne girl..."

"Harry...?" Sirius looked at Severus again.

"In the last weeks when we lived together. I tried to help him..." he simply couldn't continue. The tears were back, not only in his eyes, but in his throat as well.

Suddenly, Sirius went on his story.

"So I was at the Ministry today. Flitwick confessed everything. Voldemort promised him he would be the Headmaster of Hogwarts after his 'final victory'," he sneered. "He was simply envious of Albus. When Albus became Headmaster in 1972 instead of him, he went straight to Voldemort. He had been spying on Dumbledore since then. After you were revealed as a spy in Voldemort's circle he advised to him to take his cousin into the Death Eaters," Sirius paled in anger. "They both knew that the Ministry or Dumbledore would try to send another spy into Voldemort's circle, so they decided to make the first move and allowed Nemus to join them. They knew from the beginning that Nemus was the Ministry's spy. Nemus trusted in his uncle and not knowing that he was Voldemort's ally, the boy always transferred Flitwick's messages about the school to Voldemort. It was a very dangerous game for Flitwick, but he convinced Nemus to give his messages to Voldemort, pretending that those infos were fabricated by Dumbledore in order to lead Voldemort astray. Nemus was told not to say anything about their 'family affairs' to the Ministry, because Dumbledore suspected it was full of Voldemort's spies. But after Harry's kidnapping the poor kid became suspicious..."

Severus closed his eyes.

"Nemus... he was a tall, brown-haired boy, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

Severus shuddered.

"You know, if I hadn't Obliviated myself that day, I would, maybe, have suspected Flitwick much sooner."

"Why?"

"Harry told me about a tall, brown-haired man he saw in his visions. He even saw his face. Perhaps... But not important. I Obliviated myself and we won this blasted war, because Harry and Albus sacrificed themselves..."

Sirius's head snapped up all of a sudden.

"Severus?"

"Hm?"

"You know, our house is always open to you."

"What?"

The two men stared at each other.

"You lost everybody in this war, Severus," Sirius whispered, "but I want you to know that you have not only losses... You gained others... And you can live with us if you'd like..."

But Severus shook his head.

"You have Armena and Anne to look after, Sirius. And I have my own life," he stood up and stepped to Sirius, "but thanks nevertheless. You know," he had to fight again to be able to utter the second half of the sentence, "if Harry had survived, I would have been happy to accept such an offer."

"Happy, Severus?" Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"Well, not overly thrilled, but not too exasperated either."

The smile they shared was weak, but it was a real smile of a real peace.

"You've grown up, stupid dog," Severus said.

"You became human, oh, mighty Head of Slytherin," Sirius replied.

"I'm not the Head of Slytherin, Black. It's Vector."

Sirius's jaw fell.

"I thought Minerva..."

"She wanted me to take over the house again, but I decided not to. I had enough problems with teaching Potions and Defence and looking after Harry. On the other hand Vector does a very good job with those children... Perhaps even better than I did."

Sirius didn't answer for a long time, just stared at Severus.

"You have changed," he said finally. "Must be Harry's effect."

"It is," Severus nodded, then hastily added, his voice thin with sorrow, "it was."

***************************************************************************

Black disappeared some time later: he had to look after Anne and Armena, but he promised to return by six.

Severus didn't care. He was happy to be left alone with Harry.

He didn't do anything, just sat, holding Harry's hand and stared blankly into nothingness. Harry's body was healing nicely, he somehow noticed, and his face with the familiar scar was so calm... And the scar was fading away anyway. Harry would be so happy to see it disappearing...

Like his forearm, he suddenly thought. He had noticed it the previous night, when he had had that shower.

The Dark Mark disappeared. Completely. Much to the Ministry's disappointment – they now needed to find another way to identify Voldemort's followers. But at least, he didn't have to live with the revolting memento of his teenaged stupidity any longer.

Not as if he wanted to live at all. He had no purpose, no meaning remained to live for.

So, he just sat there and caressed the limp hand.

Four hours remained.

But it didn't matter though. Harry wouldn't be more dead after the Identifier's spell than he was now. 'Just his body.'

Severus cringed as he thought of Harry's soul. Would it be bound to Voldemort forever? Would he be compelled to be in the company of that monster even after his death? Tears ran down his cheeks again. Harry, just to save them all, had bound himself to Voldemort. Severus could just hope that these spells didn't last after death.

Suddenly, the Infirmary's door squeaked softly and opened up. Severus turned his head to the door.

"Miss Granger, what are you doing here?" he asked, but his tone held only genuine interest.

"I... I came to say good bye to Harry, sir," she whispered. "And I wanted to talk to you alone."

Severus nodded.

"Right. I have some things to say to you as well."

The girl stepped closer and grabbed the end of Harry's bed.

"Did he suffer a lot before...?"

Severus released Harry's hand and put it cautiously on the blanket. He went to the other side of the room and fetched a chair.

"Sit down, Miss Granger."

His demeanour was not sorrowful any more. His tone was serious, like his face. Hermione, sensing the change in tone, quickly obeyed and looked at him expectantly.

"Harry and I had some time to talk before the execution," he began and struggled not to remember. Now, he had another thing to perform: he had to give Harry's apology to her together with his confession. "He told me what he did to you."

"To me?" Hermione's eyes widened in surprise.

"He confessed me that he... he forced you to sleep with him, although he expressed himself more clearly."

"But..." Hermione jumped to her feet. "But he didn't force me!"

They stared at each other in silence. Severus was the first to regain his composure.

"I don't know, Miss Granger. He told me that he had raped you after he had been released from the Ministry's prison..."

"Oh, no..." Hermione muttered and collapsed back to her chair. "Oh, no, please, no, no no, no..."

"Miss Granger...?" Severus leaned towards her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Miss Granger?"

But the girl was unable to speak: the sobs muted her completely. She slowly slipped out of the chair onto the floor, but Severus grabbed her and crouched down in front of her.

"Shhh..." he said and helped her back to the chair.

But the girl didn't calm down. If it was possible, her sobs became even more violent. Severus was lost. What could he do now? Should he go to the nurse and ask for some calming potions? No, tears were needed if someone wanted to release their grief. But Severus wasn't the best person to share grief with… But Harry had loved this girl... And she really didn't have anybody to lean on with her parents' deaths last year...

Severus reached his hand, slowly, cautiously, and circled her shoulder. She leaned into the comforting touch and Severus slipped his arm around her. She gave in and collapsed on Severus's chest burying her face in the folds of his robe. Severus began to rub her back-

"He said that he loved you and he had never wanted to hurt you. He said he would always love you..."

"Noooo..." the moan was even louder. The girl was practically howling into Severus' robes. He shut his mouth. He didn't want to worsen the situation with carelessly said words even more.

After a while, the girl's weeping faded, but she didn't lift her face from Severus's chest. She was trembling.

"I thought he hated me."

"Why should he hate you?" Severus forced his voice to remain soft and calm.

"After I slept with him, I told him words, cruel words, because I thought he just slept with me because of the alcohol. I felt so humiliated. So filthy. He was absolutely drunk. I saw the surprise on his face after... after that. I... I cried. Then I didn't want him to sleep with me just because he was drunk. I wanted him to love me, but I thought he didn't love me, but now, you say that he loved me and I... I behaved like an idiot to him and he... he died thinking that he raped me, because he saw me cry and the words I told him after…" Severus began to rock the girl who started to cry again.

Teenagers with typical teenager problems, but still, they are so vulnerable, and in the situation two were in it became a real tragedy.

"I will never forgive myself..." she muttered and Severus sighed.

"He said the same, Miss Granger. But, you know, we have to learn to forgive – even ourselves. Harry loved you. Harry wished you the best. And I don't think Harry would be happy with you blaming yourself for something like this. His death wasn't your fault, so the fact that you can't fix this thing isn't your fault either."

"Yesterday, when I saw he wanted to talk to me, I refused him. Just later... I went to search for him. If I had been faster..."

"Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault..."

"I don't know, I'm so scared," her trembling became harder.

"Come, let's stand up. We can sit on the bed, and you can hold his hand," he stood up. "I know he would be happy..."

"I don't know what should I do," the girl was trembling so forcefully that Severus wasn't able to lift her up on the bed.

"Come on," he whispered encouragingly.

It took some time until she was sitting on Harry's bed. Her body was still shaking, but her sobs stopped.

"He was the most loving person I've ever seen," she whispered as she was watching Harry's face. Suddenly, she reached her arm and caressed his face. "The bravest, the greatest..."

"Yes, he was," Severus muttered just to show the girl she was not alone.

"I was in love with him for more than a year," she suddenly said and smiled weakly. "But he always told me he would never date me..."

"Even the best people have their stupid moments."

Both smiled at each other. But soon, the girl's face was lined with worry again.

"Sir, I told you that I wanted to talk to you alone," after Severus's nod she went on. "Because there's a thing, which... concerns you as well... and I have no other to turn to."

A stone began to form in Severus's stomach.

"Yes?"

"When we... I slept with Harry we didn't use any contraceptive..."

The world suddenly whirled around Severus.

"You mean..." he didn't dare to finish.

"I'm pregnant with Harry's child."

Severus thought that if the ceiling of the Infirmary had fallen on him it would have been easier to handle. Suddenly, everything came into focus, although this focus wasn't the one he had wanted for himself. Everything in a fast swirl fell into its place and the puzzle pieces formed an image – the image Quietus and Lily had seen through all the disturbing facts... that Harry had to face the evil to remain – and even Harry had suspected that his father, Quietus had been right, when he had talked about an offspring.

Severus's hands clenched into fists. That bloody prophecy! He wanted to rant, to curse aloud, but he didn't want to scare the girl – the girl who was expecting Harry's child. Then a thought occurred to him.

"Are you going to keep it?" he asked quietly.

"I'd like to," she whispered and blushed. "But I have no family to lean on and I'm so scared..."

Severus suddenly reached out and gathered her into his arms.

"Look, whether you decide to keep it or not, I will be there for you. Even if you want to keep the child, you can count on my support, not only with the pregnancy and the birth, but as long as you want me to help. But I will understand if you decide not to have a child alone," when she took a breath to speak up, he added, "you don't have to decide right now. But I want you to know that I will be here if you need help. You don't have to be scared. Not about this."

In the meantime the girl began to weep again.

Severus stood up.

"I will go to my quarters. If you need me, just call through the fire, right?" she looked a tad  relieved to be left alone. To be left alone for the last time in her life with the father of her child. The thought seemed hilarious. Severus trembled. Even if he hated it, the previous thought about suicide wasn't possible all of a sudden. Even though Harry had died, somebody needed him, his help, his support.

When he later returned to the hospital wing, he found the girl lying next to Harry, her face buried in his shoulder, having dozed off from exhaustion. It was almost six. He needed to wake her up. After he had ordered some food and two cups of strong tea from the kitchen, he carefully shook her.

"Miss Granger," he called her.

The girl knew almost immediately where she was and why. She sat up without protest and accepted Severus's help to sit in the chair. They drank their tea in a companionable silence.

"I want this child, sir," she said when she put the cup back on the table. "But I don't want to force you to..."

"It's not about forcing," Severus sighed and sipped another draught. "I would help, if I will be needed. But I still don't want you to rush this decision."

"I would keep this child even if Harry had lived," she answered quietly. "If he wanted..."

Both lifted their cups to their lips.

Some minutes later, Sirius arrived with Armena and the little girl, who was so deeply shocked that she was just hanging limply on her step-father's neck. They didn't speak, only the girl's hysterical sobs broke the silence from time to time.

The next was Ronald Weasley supported by his older brother. Then Ares Nott, his face tear-soaked. Longbottom and Parvati Patil arrived some time later. And all the Weasleys. Fletcher. Vector.

Then Janus Moon, more shaken than everybody else. Severus knew the reason: while he had been away, letting Hermione say goodbye to Harry, he had met the Slytherin boy in the hallway, crying. His sister had died the day before in the Death Eater attack. She and two accomplices had been sent to kill a Muggle family with three children.

Leah Moon hadn't hesitated for too long. She had killed her fellows, and in the end she had committed suicide. In her robes, the Aurors found a letter to her family, in which she had apologised.

'_I can't change sides,_' Severus had read in the letter. '_I committed too many sins to be forgiven in a century. Still, I wanted to tell you that I love you all, and please, don't think of me with too much hatred._'

Severus hadn't known what to say. He was familiar with this feeling: he had been a Death Eater for long years, after all.

So many children... Harry, Fred, Draco, Miss Moon... and Miss Granger as well: although she was alive, she had many serious scars in her soul.

So this was the end.

Fletcher had told him, there had been feasts in the whole country, like fifteen years ago, when they had become free from Voldemort for the first time – regardless of the price of their freedom. And now, they had been celebrating even if their saviour was dying on a hospital bed.

Sometimes, Severus thought about whether the wizarding world, or the whole human world, was worth of saving at all.

Terry Boot, a sixth year Ravenclaw entered the room with his father behind him. From the Ministry's Register Office. Severus froze.

No. This was too soon.

He put his cup down and sat on the bed, next to Harry. But the older Boot didn't come closer.

Then the Headmistress arrived with Arcus Patil. Then – to Severus's surprise, Andrus. He had come from Australia just to bid goodbye to the nephew he had known for only a few months.

Then Hagrid entered with his hound, Fang. Some moments later arrived his Gryffindor classmates, the other Patil girl, Padma, and Erica Knight from Slytherin. The room began to seem crowded.

Severus couldn't see any fake sorrow, and made-up faces. These people in this room all loved Harry.

Because Harry was the best, the kindest, the most loving. It was impossible not to love him. Even he, Severus Snape had failed in his attempt not to love him: twice. The boy had broken through even his walls.

The door creaked open again. Severus's face fell.

This time it was the Identifier staying in the doorway. A young, scared-looking woman. As she appeared, Mr Boot stepped next to her. They came closer in perfect silence.

Severus swallowed and turned around and lifted Harry onto his lap. Hermione slipped closer, and Severus gave her space next to him. They stared up at the Ministry officials in dread.

They said something. Severus didn't understand, but it wasn't important. If it was, Minerva would remind him.

The Identifier, almost apologising, pulled her wand out.

Severus cradled Harry tighter and prayed for it to be over.

When she lifted the wand, Severus shut his eyes.

He didn't know, that his tears were soaking his face, his robes, Harry, the blanket. He didn't know he was whining-

"Harry…"

***************************************************************************

Last: Saturday

Did the whole story begin to make sense?

Oh, and Kateri started a new yahoo group where we are creating a non-slash HP/SS challenge feast. I joined. Perhaps I will write another stupid ff **SHORT **stories even later… Oh, and I added some challenge ideas as well. And one problem: this group is just for writers, betas, and artists… to my utter sadness…

The address can be found in my personal library, just click on my name…


	20. Don't let history repeat itself

Betaed by Barbara

The lastest chapter.

No sequels.

No prequels.

No more side-stories.

Some things will remaine unexplained. But those are only nuances, I hope. You can't finish a story, which is about life, you can only end it somewhere. This is where I decided to end.

Now, I ask you, everybody, who reached this chapter's to REVIEW it.

**PLEASE!**

* * *

**Chapter 20 – Don't let history repeat itself **

* * *

"Sev! Pleeeease!" the little girl was tapping her feet nervously and cast a begging glance at the man and the boy standing behind her. "Graaaaandad, we will miss the train!" she pushed her trolley a little bit, then crossed her arms over her chest and stamped her foot impatiently.

The boy just rolled his eyes and didn't answer, but the tall man cast a disapproving look at her.

"Qui, behave yourself!"

The girl hugged herself even more tightly and pressed her lips into a thin line. Her emerald green eyes were lightning. Her two companions leaned back over an open box, where a small rodent was whining in something, which sounded like pain.

"His leg got stuck here, look," the boy said worriedly, as the man lifted the small opossum out of his travelling box. The animal's left front leg seemed hurt. The black-haired man shot a quick glance around, and when he didn't see anybody watching them, he pulled a wand out of his pocket.

"Ferula," he said, and when the bandage appeared on the rodent's leg, he put it back to its box. "I will bring it with me. By the time the train arrives, his leg will be fine."

"If we don't miss that train," the girl said pointedly and sneered.

"We have more than twenty minutes and we are in the station. We won't miss it," the boy snapped at his sister. "Stop being a prat. If something had happened to Hopper, you would have wanted it fixed too."

The girl turned her head away and didn't answer. The man stepped behind her and grabbed her shoulders.

"Sev is right, you know, Qui."

"You always support him," she blurted out offended.

"Not always, just when he is right," the man's voice was serious and the girl didn't reply. "Now, let's go before we really miss that train."

The girl's bad mood almost instantly disappeared. The previous excitement returned and she pushed ahead her trolley again. The man smiled at her back with appreciation, looking at the kangaroo that was on her T-shirt back. '_I'm from Australia,_' it read. '_And you?_' His other grandchild's T-shirt was plain blue, which matched the colour of his jeans. Both children had short, black hair, but the boy's eyes were chocolate brown, like his mother's.

When they arrived at the barrier between platforms nine and ten, they found a short, thin boy there sitting on his trunk and crying in front of the barrier, blocking their way through.

The girl called Qui stopped her trolley and stepped up to the stranger boy without hesitation.

"What happened?" she asked and crouched next to him.

The small boy lifted his head, his eyes were shining with uncertainty.

"I think I'm lost," he whispered and paled as he spotted the tall man approaching them.

"Where are your parents?" he asked and leaned forward. The boy gulped.

"I have no parents..." he said and tried to pull himself as small as he could.

The next moment the other boy, called Sev, joined them.

"Are you going to Hogwarts too?" he asked not hearing the previous words.

Suddenly, relief washed the small boy's fear away.

"Are you wizards too?"

The three exchanged glances, and smiled.

"Why? Don't we look like ones?" the girl asked jokingly.

"Uhm..." the boy's glance flickered from one to the other. They looked like Muggles, most definitely, wearing jeans and T-shirts. Although those trunks on their trolleys... "Dunno..." he muttered.

"We are indeed," the man smirked and with a tug pulled the boy upright. "But let us go now, or you will miss the train and the Headmistress will kill me. Let's walk straight at this barrier, and we will be there."

One minute later they were standing in a platform full of people, trunks, trolleys, and different kinds of animals. The large, scarlet steam engine of the Hogwarts Express was already steaming as the temperature was rising in it. The man ushered the children towards the end of the train, he apparently wanted to avoid attention.

He wasn't lucky. When they stopped and the man began to pack the trunks from the trolleys on the train, a sudden voice came from behind them.

"Snape? Is that you?"

The man didn't react, but after he pushed the small boy's trunk on the carriage, he turned around.

"Mr Diggory," he said politely and reached out his hand. The two men shook hands.

"Your grandchildren, I suppose," the man called Diggory looked at the three children. Severus smiled.

"Not quite, just the two black haired. Severus, Quirke, come here," he waved closer the two. "This man is Amos Diggory." The girl smiled shyly while the boy shook hands with the older man.

"You were the Minister of Magic, weren't you?" the boy asked seriously.

"That was more than eight years ago, young man," he smiled jovially. "And Severus, let me present my daughter, Judith..."

"Nice to see you..."

"This man will be your Potions professor if I'm not mistaken..."

Severus shook his head with amusement.

"Minerva wanted to keep it secret until the opening feast. I suppose she didn't want to scare away the parents..."

"Come on, Severus, why would information like that scare anybody away?"

Severus's smirk widened.

"Don't forget, I was the one who taught the parents of this generation..."

Diggory waved dismissively and put his daughter's trunk on the carriage.

"Off you go now..."

Severus pressed a kiss on Quirke's forehead, but the younger Severus was too serious and shy for affectionate actions like that and he reached out his head instead.

"See you later then," he said and stepped onto the train.

"See you later."

The boys helped the girls to tuck their trunks in an empty compartment, and finally, the four kids were sitting as the train pulled out of the station.

"So your father..." Judith began, but Severus snapped at her.

"Oh, shut up. And the answer to your question is: yes."

The girl blushed, but she didn't continue to pursue her companions.

"What's your name?" Qui leaned closer to the small boy in the corner.

"I'm... Thomas Warren, but call me Tom," he said sheepishly. "And yours?"

"Quirke Snape. And that is my brother, Severus Snape."

"I could tell it myself," the boy muttered darkly. "But thanks." He turned to Tom. "You are not from a wizarding family, aren't you?"

"Er..." he bit his lip nervously, "I have been told that my parents were wizards, but I didn't know them. They have died when I was a baby and I was sent to an orphanage."

The three children looked at him in horror.

"Do you live in an orphanage?" Judith asked. "But that is..."

"I have no family remaining. The man who fetched me, a tall, brown man, called Fletcher, he told me that all my family members died in the same war as my parents..."

Severus nodded knowingly.

"Many people died in that war…"

Tom looked at him.

"Did you learn about it?"

Quirke giggled and her bother shot an acid glare at her.

"No, he just read all the books he found in the house..."

"Shut up, Qui..."

"Why? Wasn't it you who stole mum's history books to read them and nagged her to talk about those things?"

Judith spoke up.

"Is that true that your mum will be the History professor?"

Qui rolled her eyes.

"Oh, yeah... And Grandad will be the Potions professor and we will be doomed..."

"Qui!" Severus yelled angrily.

"What?" she swirled to her brother. "You perhaps will be sorted into Ravenclaw, but I hope the Hat will put me in Gryffindor and that's that." She smiled to Tom, who stared at them with surprise.

"The Hat?"

Severus finally decided himself and pulled a book out of his trunk and didn't pay any more attention to the conversation around him.

By the time the witch with the cart arrived both girls were deep in telling stories about Hogwarts to the wide-eyed Tom, who barely dared to breathe in awe. Even Severus left his book for some sweets, and cautiously bought candy for three persons, putting the third into Tom's lap.

"I can't accept this," the small boy swallowed. Severus shrugged.

"It's not my money, but my parents'. And not a big deal anyway," and he closed any further arguments by burying himself back in his book.

"Does he always do that?" Judith asked whispering.

"Yeah," Qui replied. "He always behaves as if he would be my older brother, although we are twins."

"And why do you wear Muggle clothes?"

Qui shrugged.

"We almost always wear Muggle clothes. We attended a Muggle primary school. It would have been a little bit suspicious to wear robes and hat..."

"Muggle school?" Judith's eyes widened in surprise. "But you are Snapes and the pureblood..."

"Don't begin this crap," she frowned. "One, mum is muggle-born and two, she didn't want us to be private students. She said we had to be amongst other children. I think she was right, but they had quite a lot of rows with Grandad about it."

Tom's voice interrupted the two girls.

"Judith, didn't you go to school before?"

"No," she shook her head. "I had some private teachers and they..."

The compartment door slid open. Two boys stood in the door, both were older than the four first years. One of them was large and oafish boy with bristly hair, slowly chewing something, and he didn't seem too intelligent to Qui. The other boy was tall and looked disgustingly confident. Both wore Slytherin crests on their chest. His eyes shot around.

"So, here are those Snapes everybody's talking about," he cast a short glance at Judith, "and the ex-Minister's little daughter. But who are you?"

Tom was scared as the bigger boy towered over him.

"I'm... I'm Tom Warren…"

The shock was clear on the confident boy's face.

"Tom Warren-Avery, you wanted to say, didn't you?" he stepped even closer and with a finger under Tom's chin, he lifted his head and looked into his eyes.

Severus lowered his book, but his sister jumped to her feet.

"Leave him alone!"

The large boy stepped in the compartment blocking Qui's way to the small boy in the corner.

"It's none of your soddin' business," he muttered still chewing something.

"I'm Rabastan Macnair, Tom, and he is my friend, Fidelus Goyle," the tall boy said waving to the oafish fellow, and reached his hand out. Tom jerked his head free and clenched his teeth.

"Leave me alone," he muttered in fear.

"You will be a member of our house, kid. Don't be so shy. We are on the same side..."

Tom trembled and tried to shift further away from him.

"I don't understand..."

"Oh, then I will tell you. Your father..."

"_Silencio!_" the spell muted the Slytherin, who swirled around. Severus was standing there his wand lifted. "You won't tell him anything. Neither now, nor later, if you don't want to duel with me. And I warn you: my grandfather, who taught me duelling was always better than your father. Now go, and leave Tom alone." The next moment the two Slytherins were lying outside the compartment.

Qui looked at his brother horrified.

"Granddad will kill you..."

Severus pocketed his wand and sat back.

"Not if you can keep your big fat mouth shut."

Qui put her hands on her hips and stepped forward.

"I..." but she suddenly stopped. "What was this speech about fathers and Grandad?"

"Nothing," Severus said and lifted his book up.

"NO!" Qui grabbed his book and forced his brother to look at her again. "It's not fair that you know and we don't..."

"You should read more," he lifted the book again, but this time Tom's pleading voice stopped him.

"I don't know anything about my parents, Severus..."

Severus sighed defeated and closed his book.

"Look, it's not something happy. It's about the war, in which your family perished."

Qui, hearing the word 'perished' rolled her eyes. Tom, on the contrary didn't seem to notice the adult-like word use and behaviour.

"I don't mind. I will know it sooner or later and I'd like you to tell me..."

"Please, Sev," his sister's voice joined Tom's, and even Judith looked at him expectantly. Severus surrendered.

"All right, but just a few words, because we have to change into our school robes after that," he waited for the nods then went on. "In that war when your family died, Tom, your father, mother and other family members were on the same side as Macnair's or Goyle's, the families of those two boys," he nodded towards the corridor, "and it was the opposite side to our family or even Judith's family. But it doesn't mean that you have to belong in the company of these bullies. Grandfather's parents were at that side too, and he fought against it. War is always like this. You have to make your own decision," he looked at Tom unwaveringly. Tom swallowed hard and turned his eyes to the floor.

"Does it mean that they were evil?"

A frown flickered through Severus's face.

"I don't know, Tom," he said finally. "They followed an evil man, and it possibly affected them, but I've never known them personally."

Tom nodded.

"What happened here?" a tall boy with crooked nose, bright blue eyes and auburn hair stopped in front of the compartment and peered in. "Somebody told me that you fought. Is that true?"

Severus stood up.

"It was only me. And it wasn't a fight, I just helped them out. They were harassing one of my companions," he stepped forward and reached out his hand. "Severus Snape."

The boy smiled.

"Snape, eh?" he lifted his chin a little and laughed. "At least I won't be the only one with all too famous historical family name," he grabbed Severus's hand. "Ares... Ares Hurricus Dumbledore."

"Wow," Qui cried out. "Are you the grandson of Albus Dumbledore?"

The auburn boy shook his head.

"Oh, no. I'm not so fortunate. My crazy grandfather is Aberforth. Albus Dumbledore had five daughters, no sons to carry his name... And you?" he looked at the others.

"My sister, Quirke, she is Judith Diggory and Tom Warren."

"Will you be all first years?" They nodded. "Then welcome. And try to be in Gryffindor: that's my house as well. I'm a fifth year and a prefect. Now, change your robes! We'll be there soon!"

Severus was relieved when the staff meeting ended. He had never liked these meeting, although he had to confess that with Hermione's quiet, witty remarks whispered into his ears everything was much more bearable.

The team didn't really change. The Headmistress was still Minerva, the Head of Gryffindor was Fletcher, the Head of Hufflepuff was Sprout and the Slytherin head was still Vector. Sinistra, Trelawney and Hagrid were still there in their positions as well as Filch, Poppy, Vilma (Madam Pince) and Madam Hooch. Oh, and there was him, but it didn't really count: he had missed eleven years, so he now was like a new staff member.

The new members were: Hermione as the History teacher, McDougal, the Charms Professor and the Head of the Ravenclaw house (although he wasn't really new: he had been teaching in the school for ten years) and the Defence teacher, Erica Knight.

"Aren't you afraid of the job?" Severus heard Hermione ask her after the meeting.

"Why would I be?" she asked giggling. "I have been teaching it for four years – apparently being a relative of Harold Winston Potter helped a lot against that stupid curse," she turned to Severus. "Do you know why George decided to leave Hogwarts? It happened so quickly..."

Severus smiled.

"He got married in the summer and her wife is expecting. He wanted to be with his family."

Erica nodded.

"And why did you return?"

"I wanted to be with my family as well."

Erica laughed.

"Is that true then, that this year we have to deal with four Snapes?

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Four?"

"You, Hermione and the two children."

"Oh, Hermione..." Severus smirked. "Yes, if you think of her as a Snape, yes."

"It's a pity these students don't remember you and your reputation, Severus. It will lessen the impact of Minerva's announcement. In these days the Snape name is looked upon much more positively."

Severus growled and stood up.

"Let's go to the Great Hall. The little monsters will arrive soon."

"Excited, I see..."

Severus put on his bottle green outer cloak and his thoughts wandered away. In the last years he had barely worn any robes. They had lived in a Muggle environment, and Hermione had been strict. So he had soon become used to Muggle clothes, mostly jeans, T-shirts and sweatshirts. He had almost never needed to put on a coat: the part of Australia they had lived was quite warm even during the wintertime.

For the first months, Severus had hated Muggle clothes, but he had agreed with Hermione (to himself, mostly) that the kids would be better brought up in a normal environment, rather than in the wizarding community where their father's fame would have distinguished and spoiled them.

So now, in suit and outer robes Severus felt more than a little uncomfortable.

When they entered the Great Hall it suddenly hit him with full force how much he had missed Hogwarts. Hogwarts in time of peace. The beautifully lit Great Hall, the hundreds of winking torches, the enchanted ceiling, the noise of those unnerving kids, goodness, how he had missed it! But he was here again, this time waiting for _his _grandchildren to enter the side entrance and be sorted (although he had no illusions about the result: Severus would be in Ravenclaw and Quirke in Gryffindor, even though Severus had enough courage and loyalty to be sorted into Gryffindor as well) it was strange... But it felt as if he had arrived home, finally.

He sat down between Minerva and Hermione (as the new Deputy Headmaster it was his place), and couldn't suppress a smile when Minerva leaned closer to him-

"My goodness, Severus, with that short hair and green cloak you will shatter your female students' hearts. And perhaps not only your students'."

"It was Hermione's idea, go and blame her," he whispered back.

"I most definitely will not blame her. I'm so happy that you are here, Severus, that you finally decided to return to England..."

"We don't plan to go back, you know. Our jobs tie us here..."

A soft cling warned the Headmistress, who looked at his colleague.

"Go, welcome the first years. They have arrived."

They had, indeed. Ten of them were absolutely soaked (which meant that at least two boats had turned upside down in the lake), but everyone of them looked a little intimidated, except for Severus, who was as calm and collected as he almost always was.

"The first years, Professor Snape," the half-giant stood next to the intimidated group, his hand laid on Quirke's shoulder.

"Thank you, Hagrid," he said seriously, but when he spotted Quirke waving at him excitedly he couldn't suppress a small smile. "Follow me," he turned on his heel towards the little chamber where the first years to wait for the sorting.

Their tension grew, and everybody looked at him expectantly.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Severus said when all were in. He said a few words about the houses and the sorting, but in the end he added. "Every house has its merits and weaknesses. And every house has produced light and dark wizards. It's not the house, which is important, but your decision how to live your life." Severus noticed the small boy they had met in the train station was staring unblinkingly at him. "Don't let stupid words and prejudices lead you astray. Whichever house you will be sorted, it won't guarantee anything. The sorting is just to help you to find yourselves." The drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right slowly faded. It was the time.

The sorting was a very long ceremony this year: there were quite a lot of first years. The explanation was simple: this year was the eleventh after Voldemort's downfall. How many of these children had been conceived on that fateful April day eleven years ago?

And the next years would be much more numerous. Remus and Armena Black, children of Sirius and Armena Black, Natalia, Alfred and Alex Weasley, Bill Weasley's children, Archibald Weasley, Percy Weasley's son, Christian Diggory, Diggory's younger son, and the even younger generation: Helen Moon, Janus's daughter, Violet and Andrew Kirkpatrick, Pansy Parkinson and Andrew Kirkpatrick's children, Bill, Steven and Lilian Weasley, Ron and Padma Weasley's children, Clara Longbottom, Neville and Parvati Longbottom's daughter, Terry Boot, another the fourth one in the line, and so many others...

In the meantime, Severus tried to memorise as many names as he could. In one week he would meet with a schoolful of students, names and faces... It wouldn't be easy.

Judith Diggory was sorted into Hufflepuff.

Severus looked at the Slytherin table. It was so strange... he didn't even know them, and once, long ago he had been the Head of that House... And now, he was waiting for his two grandchildren's sorting – being sure that neither of them would be in that house.

"Snape, Quirke, Meredith!" he read the next name and smiled at the nervous girl. She was so anxious that she forgot to sneer at her second name. She didn't like the name Meredith, but Hermione wanted to name her after her mother, and Severus had found it good that both children had muggle names as well.

Whispers broke out in the Hall.

"Snape? Did he say Snape?"

"Is it _that _Snape family? The famous one?"

"Fool, there is NOT another Snape family…"

"Oh, my God," somebody said. "You couldn't read anything in the news about them! Anything at all!"

This had been the purpose of their moving to Australia, Severus thought satisfied.

"Gryffindor!" the hat finally cried out and the Gryffindor table erupted. For a moment, Severus couldn't help but think of his parents. If they had known... He smirked. His brother, Quietus would have been Gryffindor if he had wanted to upset their parents...

Qui jumped off the stool and pushed the hat into Severus's hand.

"Thanks, grandad," she said and whirled away like a hurricane. Severus couldn't help but shake his head. How many times had he told the girl that in the school his name was professor Snape or sir, and most definitely not 'grandad'. He inhaled deeply and went on with the list.

"Snape, Severus Winston!" The old Potter's name.

The whispers and murmurs again. Young Severus remained calm during the whole process.

"Ravenclaw!" the hat exclaimed, and this time, the shouts of joy were much louder than the ones of the Gryffindors.

"YES!" a plump boy at the Ravenclaw table shouted.

The Slytherin table clouded in icy silence.

The sorting went on.

And finally,

"Warren-Avery, Thomas!" Severus's voice almost faltered as he read the name. Impossible. Avery's, the bastard's son was alive and attending Hogwarts at the same time at his grandchildren. His face darkened.

The small boy was standing in front of him. Avery's son.

But this was just a boy. And he couldn't commit the same fault twice. Once, long ago, he had judged a boy by his father – and it had been one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

Tom. The boy was named Tom, most probably after the reptile-like monster.

But he was an orphan as well. He wasn't the arrogant, pure-bred child he could have become if his parents had survived. He was just a scared child, waiting for him, waiting for the hat to sort him.

Severus finally sighed and handed over the hat.

The boy sat on the stool. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Hermione's pale face.

"Gryffindor!" the hat shouted, and Severus heard Qui's yell:

"Here, Tom!"

And the sorting was over.

When Severus returned from the chamber he had to place the hat and the stool in and occupied his place next to Minerva, she stood up.

"Just some words. The Forest on the school's ground is forbidden to _all _pupils," she looked pointedly at the Gryffindor table, where an auburn-haired boy smirked widely and nodded. "No exceptions. No magic can be used between the classes in the corridors, magical sweeties and games included. And finally, I'd like to introduce two new professors: professor Hermione Snape, who will be the History professor, since Mr Binns decided to resign..." Hermione nodded her head as enormous shouts of joy sounded in the hall. Apparently, the old ghost hadn't been any more popular than in Severus's time. "She was the professor of History in Hopsands Magic Academy in Australia for six years. And as you see, professor Weasley isn't here. He married in the summer and has changed job. Our new-old Potions professor is professor Severus Snape, who had previously been the potions instructor at Hogwarts for seventeen years, and the Board of the governors elected him as the new Deputy Headmaster of the school as well after professor Vector decided to resign from that position."

Polite clapping, not as joyful as in Hermione's case, but it was understandable: George had indeed been popular. Severus nodded his head and scowled.

Both he and Hermione scrutinised the four tables in front of them, while the kids were occupied with the suddenly appeared dinner.

"I'm so happy, Severus," Hermione whispered in his ear. "But, you know, I wouldn't have been less happy if one of them had been sorted into Slytherin..."

"I know," he replied. "And I'm quite relieved that this... Avery kid didn't end up in my old house. He will do better in Gryffindor."

Hermione's face darkened. The name Avery was a taboo in their home because of obvious reasons. But in the end she just shrugged.

"Quirke apparently likes him," they looked at the two first years. Her eyes suddenly caught a tall boy sitting close to them. "Look there, Severus! Don't you think that boy, that tall... two seats right from Quirke... isn't he familiar?"

Severus's heart almost stopped as he saw the boy. A soft touch on his arm showed him that Minerva wanted to say something.

"Yes, Minerva?" he said, but he couldn't rip his eyes off the tall boy.

"He's Aberforth's grandson, Severus."

"He looks like Albus," Severus muttered.

"I know. But he's not him. Perhaps later..." she leaned closer. "Right now he's more like the Weasley twins in their best days in Hogwarts. He was George's favourite by the way."

"Sounds like Aberforth," Severus sneered as he thought of the silly old man.

"Don't think so," Minerva replied. "He is much more serious and he is our best student..."

"You can use past tense, Minerva," Severus interrupted her. "Don't forget, the young Severus Snape has arrived, and I tell you he is as talented as Quietus was."

"His pet is Fawkes though" the Headmistress said suddenly. "Albus left it to him. So..."

"So in one hundred and thirty years we will have another Albus... What's his name?"

"Ares."

"So, he's not Albus then." Severus's voice sounded resigned.

"Do you still miss him?" the woman looked at him concerned.

Severus shrugged.

"I don't know. Many times I simply had not enough time to miss anybody... Life became messy more times than I would have expected..."

"I heard about your newest potion..."

"It's not that new, and it wasn't only me who created it, as I'm sure you know."

"The werewolf population of the country is extremely grateful to you."

"I'm much more proud of my developed Dreamless Sleep Potion."

"I heard about it. Poppy can't stop blessing you. And if I heard correctly with your new inventions you became quite wealthy..."

"Come on, Minerva! Since the Potters bequeathed their possessions to Harry, we were wealthy enough to buy Hogwarts if we had wanted..."

"Why did you return then, Severus?" this time, his colleague's face was serious.

"Because I realised I like teaching. And now, that I have no help in my experiments I found pointless to remain in Australia alone."

"I'm really happy you are here. I missed you, Severus. And your house missed you as well..."

"I'm not the Head of Slytherin..."

"Vector would be happy to hand his responsibilities over to you..."

"I will think about it, Minerva."

"Thanks. And if you have time, please, come to my quarters for tea. It would be nice to talk to an old friend."

"With pleasure."

Their new quarters were on the second floor. It was large with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a sitting room and a kitchenette. Hermione, who had been staying at the school for two weeks already, furnished and organised it nicely, while Severus had stayed in Snape Manor with the kids.

"Your ingredients and other things are in boxes in your old office. I didn't want to unpack them without you."

"It's all right. I want to do it myself anyway."

"I'll make some tea," Hermione said. "We will have some visitors in ten minutes, if I'm not mistaken..."

The door banged open.

"You were mistaken. It wasn't ten, but one," Severus smiled at Hermione and turned sneering toward the twins. "What are you doing here?"

"I came for Pommy, and Qui decided to accompany me." Qui nodded, but neither of them went to fetch the small opossum. They sat on the sofa next to Severus and grabbed a cup of tea. Hermione sat in the armchair facing them and smiled. They were staring expectantly at the clock on the wall, the family clock with several hands.

Five hands, precisely.

Four of them were pointing to the word 'HOME'.

The fifth pointed to 'AT WORK', but not for too long. Soon it clicked to 'AT WAY' and the fireplace hummed aloud and a tall figure stumbled out.

"DAD!" Quirke shouted and jumped on the figure's neck. "The sorting hat put me in Gryffindor like Mum and you!"

Harry looked at her with his brows furrowed.

"What are you doing here? You should be in your dormitories!"

"Daaaaad," Qui ignored Harry's annoyance. "And Sev is Ravenclaw!"

"Let go of my neck, Qui. If I remember correctly we agreed to meet on the weekend..."

"It's all right, Harry. They just wanted to tell you the good news," Hermione said soothingly.

"And Pommy's leg has broken and grandad fixed it and we came to fetch him..."

"And I will accompany them to their dormitories," Hermione added calmingly.

Harry pressed a kiss on his daughter's forehead and put her down.

"Congratulations," he said finally. He turned to his son, and pulled him in a short hug as well. "I'm proud of you, son."

"Thanks, dad."

Severus looked at Sev, and saw the love and admiration the boy felt towards his father. They were very close: Harry and Sev, while Qui generally chose him, Severus, for the matters she couldn't discuss with her mother.

"Go to your dormitories now. It's the first day, and you have to meet your classmates... See you on Saturday. Ares and Ron will be here to welcome you to England," he shuddered as he thought of Ron's three children, but at least Ares didn't have any. His friend still didn't want to settle down. Ron, to everybody's surprise had married Padma Patil not long after their graduation. His red-headed friend had soon become brothers-in-law with Neville.

All the Weasleys were already married with children. It was just a matter of time before Hogwarts would be flooded by a new generation of Weasleys. The first would come next year: Bill's first born daughter.

Harry stepped to Hermione and kissed her neck. 'I will be in Severus's office, luv. I'll help him to unpack."

"I don't think I will wait for you, Harry. Tomorrow's classes, you know..."

"No problem."

When Hermione left with the children and Sev's opossum, he collapsed next to Severus.

"Hi, Dad," he groaned out.

"Hard work...?"

"No," Harry yawned. "Too many new faces. The only one I knew was Cassia. Oh, and Neville, who works in the hospital's greenhouse and potions laboratory," they both smiled remembering an old conversation about potions labs and Longbottoms. "The other Healers and nurses were absolutely unfamiliar. Oh, and they were mostly just staring at me. I think I too got used to be a normal human being in Australia. This attention... The-man-who-killed-You-Know-Who... I didn't hear that crap for years..." he massaged his neck tiredly.

Severus looked at the exposed skin of Harry's neck and spotted the white lines of the scars clearly visible.

"You forgot to put a glamourie on them," he said softly.

"No," Harry shrugged. "They would know about them sooner or later. And I have nothing to hide."

The scars reminded Severus of another thing he wanted to tell Harry.

"Avery's son is here in Hogwarts."

A slight frown appeared on Harry's face, but faded away quickly.

"The poor thing. Did he grow up in an orphanage, I suppose?"

Severus nodded.

"The hat put him in Gryffindor."

Harry's eyes became distant in thought. It took a while to him to speak up.

"I'm happy to hear it. I wouldn't like history repeating itself."

Severus stood up and stretched himself.

"Let's go to my office. Hermione told me she didn't unpack my boxes."

"Oh," Harry's head jerked up. "Do you have the Memory Potion with you?"

"Just the ingredients. Why?"

"I wanted to try to brew the antidote and modify that so that it could help with serious amnesiac cases. If we add some crushed bat wings and porcupine quills..."

Harry's enthusiasm apparently infected Severus's mood as well, because he nodded excitedly.

"Let's try that!"

Later, after beginning to brew the Memory Potion, they continued their previous conversation.

"I'm happy I accepted this Healer job," Harry said and stirred the potion twice counter-clockwise.

"I think your experiences with memory and soul healing are exceptional," Severus said and powdered some dried asphodel.

"Cassia said the same," he cast a warming charm on the next ingredients before adding them. "Although it's still a miracle to me that you regained your memories. You are the only one I know. My experiences and the experts say it's not possible..."

"Don't be ridiculous. I regained them." Both laughed. "And if you want to know, it's still seems a miracle to me that you survived the Dementor's kiss. You are the only one I know."

Harry took the powdered asphodel from Severus and slowly stirred it into the concoction.

"Do you still think it was because of Malfoy's oath?"

"What else can I think?" Severus voice was slightly irritated.

"Your and Hermione's love for example," Harry said quietly. "I remember being nowhere and feeling that somewhere you were waiting for me..."

Severus couldn't answer. He sat down and buried his face in his hands; he remembered.

FLASHBACK

After the Identifier's spell sounded harshly in the silent room, Harry's body went limp in his arms. Severus refused to look up, he lowered his head and burrowed his face in Harry's shoulder.

Quiet noises of footsteps began to fill his surroundings, and soft words of quiet conversations could be heard. The weight at his left side became even heavier as the girl had almost collapsed at him.

"Harry..." Hermione whispered through her tears. "Don't go, please..."

Severus shifted Harry's body to put it on the bed, as he suddenly felt the urge to comfort the girl. But just as he started to turn around with his burden a small cough and a painful moan stopped him.

"Don't move, please," the voice was dry and hoarse. "It hurts."

Severus was so shocked that his suddenly too weak arms simply released Harry, who fell onto the ground unceremoniously.

Everybody in the room halted in shock and turned towards them.

Harry released another painful moan.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked and in the next moment she dropped to her knees next to him. But Severus was as fast as her. He gathered the conscious boy into his arms and lifted him onto the bed.

"Harry?" he asked weakly.

"It's finished," Harry whispered.

"What? What are you talking about?" Severus asked in fear.

"The cold. The nothing. Am I dead?"

"No," Sirius's voice came from the bed's end. As Severus looked at his direction he could see everybody standing around them. "You are in the Infirmary in Hogwarts."

"Sirius?" Harry opened his eyes, but closed them quickly. "There's too much light..."

"How do you feel?" Madam Pomfrey's voice missed its usual dutiful edge.

"My scars... are burning," Harry muttered and opened his eyes again, but this time he was more cautious and didn't open them widely. "And... I'm thirsty..."

"Of course," Madam Pomfrey suddenly found her bedside manner as her look swept around. "Since he is alive, you can meet him anytime later. Now, get out!"

Severus had never understood how the nurse had been so efficient, but in five minutes there were only a few people in the room: Severus, Hermione, Sirius, Armena and Anne. Poppy was about to open her mouth to protest, but Severus's death glare forced her to remain silent.

Harry fought to sit up, and Severus helped him. The first moments were just heart-wrenching. Harry looked at them with a small amount of confusion in his eyes.

"I thought I would never see you again. I should be dead," suddenly, his voice stopped and he whirled to Severus. "Is... is he dead...?" he whispered, fear transparent in his tone.

"Yes, he is. Absolutely. He will never return," Severus said firmly and hugged him. Harry's tension lessened.

"Oh..." but in that moment he spotted Hermione over Severus's shoulder. The change was abrupt: all the blood rushed out of his face and his pupils dilated. "Hermione?"

This was the moment when Severus decided to leave the two alone: he ushered the others into the corridor and closed the Infirmary's door. Once they were out Severus turned to Sirius to explain his decision, but as his eyes met Black's he knew that Black had known. Andrus stepped up to them.

"What happened? Why did you come out?"

'_Family reunion,_' Severus thought to himself, but aloud he said, "Let's go to my office. I have some things to tell you..."

"I have some others as well..." Andrus muttered and pulled out an envelope from his pocket. "An official letter from the Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Promises and Oaths. Mr Boot gave it to me as the official lawyer for Harry."

Sirius looked around, the corridor was still too crowded.

"Let's go, then. I don't think it's public..."

"I think we can begin with the letter, Andrus," Severus said as they were sitting around a small coffee table in his office. They were only three: Armena had decided not to come and had taken Anne for a walk around the lake.

"I've already read it. It's practically Dragon Malfoy's letter to Harry..."

"What?" Severus jumped to his feet.

"Sit down. No need to jump, Severus. I know you were related, but..."

"Draco wanted to save Harry..." Severus's voice was thin with emotions, but Sirius's sceptical snort and Andrus's sneer were telling another story.

"I don't think so, Severus, but I think it's better if you read it yourself," he handed over the letter. Sirius stood up and stepping behind Severus peered into the letter over the Potions Master's shoulder.

_The 31st of March, 1997._

_Potter,_

_I hereby inform you that I made an oath on my mother's name to support you in killing Tom Marvolo Riddle. Through this oath I bound myself to you and I remain your bonded until you defeat him._

_I still hate you, but last night, Tom Riddle tortured and killed my mother, because she refused to enter his service, and knowing that you are one of those who could actually kill the monster, I decided I would do anything to help you in your fight against him, even if you are the son of a mudblood bitch and a stupid pureblood. We are related too (to my utter disgust, I still have to add) and that idiot Noblestone spell is just nagging me to leave you alone – and now I promise I will give up my revenge against you, if you kill the monster. A half-blood monster at that – even you are better than him._

_So, Potter, since I made this oath (even if it was made in your absence) to support you in killing the monster, this oath now compels you to revenge my eventual death as if it becomes necessary._

_I trust in your idiotic Gryffindor nobility that you won't abuse this bond and you will use it only to defeat Tom Marvolo Riddle._

_Yours in revenge,_

_Dragon Fortes Malfoy_

"He wanted revenge..." then, Draco's entire behaviour made sense to Severus. The tear-soaked face, the self-sacrificing act... No, there hadn't been any liking towards Harry or even Severus, there had been only the sheer wish to revenge his mother's death – it had been so like Severus's life-changing decision, when he had made his oath to Albus... To revenge his brother... nothing else.

"Typical Malfoy," Black muttered behind him, and he had to agree.

"I suppose it was Harry's bond with Malfoy which prevented him from falling into the darkness and remaining soulless," Andrus's voice was even and calm. Sirius nodded.

"It's quite possible."

"The boy-who-lived..." Severus murmured in awe. But he tried to snap out of it. "I have some other news, though..."

"Good or bad?" Sirius asked furrowing his brows.

"It depends," Severus shrugged, but didn't go on.

"Spit it out," Sirius said and sat in the opposite armchair.

"Miss Granger is expecting Harry's child by October or November."

As Severus looked at his two companions, Andrus seemed absolutely calm, although he was never close to Harry. Sirius's face, on the other side, turned an ugly grey-greenish colour.

"Ouch..." was all he could say. After ten minutes of total silence he continued. "We have to do something. If the media finds out..."

Severus turned to his cousin.

"Can Harry be blamed for... sleeping with her?"

"It depends how old she was when the act took place," he answered matter-of-factly.

"Sixteen, I guess."

"That's all right, then. But Sirius is right. If you don't want your life to turn upside-down, you have to leave England for a while…"

Andrus had suggested they move to Australia. They had accepted and had bought a house there close to Melbourne. Harry had finished his studies there in Hopsands Magic Academy the following year, while Hermione had followed him one year later. Severus had encouraged both of them to study, so Harry finally had begun his studies as a Healer via owl, but he had remained home with the children and Severus, and their potions had soon become famous worldwide. It had been quite humorous that Harry had achieved his masters in Potions sooner than in Healing Studies, although the latter had been his main course. Hermione had gone to study History in Sydney in a muggle university, and after achieving a Masters in her subject she had been invited to teach in Hopsands Magic Academy.

But as time had gone by, they all had become more and more anxious to return until Harry had received an invitation from St Mungo's to be a Healer at the hospital. At that time, however, Severus and he had been in the last phase of their research on the modified Dreamless Sleep Potion and the twins were only nine, so they had decided to stay for another two years.

When Minerva had heard that they had been planning to return, she had immediately offered the History job to Hermione, and St Mungo's had offered Severus a job in the hospital's laboratory as the Head Potions Master of the institution and even his first working place had offered him the same: he could have been the Head Potions Master of the Institute for Health Potions Research.

But this summer, when Minerva had finally sent the message that the post of the Potions Master was waiting for him if he had wanted, he had chosen that without further hesitation.

Why?

It was so simple: he loved to teach.

END FLASHBACK

"Let's go home. Tomorrow I have to go to work, and you have children to intimidate..." Harry's playful voice snapped him out of his memories.

"I don't think I can manage it," Severus smiled. "With Qui and Sev amongst them..."

"Age has mellowed you, Severus..."

"Age? What age?" Severus raised an eyebrow. "I'm only fifty. It was you, who turned me into a grandfather too soon. I have at least one hundred years remained to live if I can survive your kids for seven years here..." he muttered in mock annoyance. "And we can't go now. We have to wait until this stupid concoction of yours cools down somewhat."

"It can cool down very well without us, Severus. Tomorrow, we can begin the counter-potion. Let's go." Severus grunted, but gave up resisting. "Anyway, did you decide what to say to your students in their first lesson? The old speech? _'You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic...'_"

"Hey!" Severus yelled, but Harry didn't care.

"... _I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...'_"

"Stop it!" Severus groaned menacingly, but Harry ignored him.

"_...I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach... Oh, and the Snape twins – our new **celebrities**..._"

"Shut up!"

"_... and myself as another celebrity, of course,_" Harry continued, but frowned. "No... that last sentence sounded too much like Lockhart, not you. Apropos, Lockhart now is one of my patients, so if you don't behave I will restore his memories and send him back to Hogwarts..."

"Harry!"

"Come on, Severus! I hope my children can see their grandfather standing in front of the whole class hissing the words_ softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes_."

"You're impossible," Severus finally laughed.

"No more than you," Harry rolled his eyes.

Severus opened his mouth to answer, but a jaw-breaking yawn stopped him.

"You were right," he said finally. "Let's go or I will be unable to utter this stupid speech tomorrow..."

"So will you say it then?"

"Of course. What else were you waiting for?"

"Nothing else," Harry smiled and shook his head. "It will be perfect."

Severus playfully hit his back. Harry chuckled, shook his head and wrapped his arm around Severus's waist as they crossed toward the door. They headed out of the office looking like any father and son, and nobody could have guessed that they'd ever been anything but.

The door clinked quietly as it shut closed behind their retreating backs.

* * *

The End

* * *

Please, again: REVIEW!

**At least this once. **

I think that after more than 300.000 words written in a foreign language, I deserve at least one comment. Even if it's not more than a thanks.

**To my reviewers:**

Many, many thanks for your encouraging and loving comments! I hope you all enjoyed my stories, and I'm sorry if I caused disappointment to anybody. I tried to do my best, but it wasn't always easy. I'm sorry, if I didn't listen to your opinions or I shunned you. I'm sorry if I upset you. But your comments gave me the power to continue again and again.

Enahma


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